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Xo. 107 


25 Cts, 



Copyrijrlit, 18S5, 
by IIarpru A Broth frr 


December 17, 1886 


Subscription Price 
per Year, 52 Numbers, !fl5 


Entered at the Post-Office at New York, as Second-class Mail ^fatter 


THE NINE 



JTopcl 

/ 

By B. L. 'fA1UEOX 

AUTHOR OP 



% r - 
■*s,. 





GREAT PORTER SQUARE” “THE BRIGHT STAR OF LIFE” “ GRIF ” ETC. 


Bookii yon 'may hold readily in your hand are the mmt U!<ef(d^ after all 

Dr. Johnson 


NEW YOEK 

HARPER k BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 

1886 



HARPER’S HANDY SERIES. 

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paid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price. 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


PART THE FIRST. 

THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


1 . 

A STRANGE DECISION. 

This morning, at the Central Criminal Court, Mr. 
Justice Fen more resumed the trial of Edward Lay- 
ton for tlie wilful murder of his wife, Agnes Layton, 
on the morning of the 26th of March, by the admin- 
istration of poisonous narcotics in such quantities as 
to produce death. Extraordinary as was the excite- 
ment caused by yesterday’s proceedings, the public 
interest in this mysterious murder was intensified by 
the strange decision arrived at by the prisoner on 
this the third day of his trial. 

The Attorney-general, Mr. J. Protheroe, Q.C., and 
Mr. Standing conducted the case on behalf of the 
Crown. 

The widely spread rumor that an episode of a 
startling character was impending, received confir- 


2 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


raation immediately upon the entrance of the pris- 
oner in the dock. He presented a care-worn appear- 
ance, and while the usual formalities were in progress, 
it was observed that he and his counsel (Mr. Bain- 
bridge, Q.C.) were in earnest consultation, and it ap- 
peared as if the learned gentleman were endeavor- 
ing to overcome some resolution which the prisoner 
had formed. At the termination of this conversation 
Mr. Bainbridge, turning to the Bench, said, 

I have to claim your lordship’s indulgence for 
a statement which I find it necessary to make. It 
is in the remembrance of your lordship that on the 
first day of this trial the prisoner was undefended, 
being, as it appeared, resolutely determined to de- 
fend himself. Yesterday morning — that is, upon the 
second day of the trial — I informed j^our lordship 
that the prisoner had been prevailed upon by his 
friends to intrust his defence to me. Being satisfied 
in my own mind that nothing would occur to disturb 
this arrangement — which I venture to say was an 
advisable one — I did not feel called upon to mention 
that the prisoner’s consent to accept legal aid was 
very reluctantly given. Tliat this was so, however, 
is proved by what has since transpired. Both in 
writing and by word of mouth the prisoner now in- 
sists upon conducting his own case, and has distinct- 
ly informed me that he will not permit me to act for 
him. I am empowered to say that his decision is 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 3 

not in any sense personal to myself. It is simply, 
and regrettably, that he has resolved not to be de- 
fended or represented by counsel. In these circum- 
stances I have no option but to place myself in your 
lordship’s hands.” 

Prisoner. “ My lord — ” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. ‘^Silence. Tour counsel 
will speak for you.” 

Prisoner. ‘‘My lord, I have no counsel. I am 
defending myself, and no person shall speak for 
me.” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. “ Prisoner at the bar, it is 
my duty to tell you that the decision at which you 
have arrived is grave and unwise.” 

Prisoner. “Of that, my lord, I am the best 
judge.” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. “You may not be. It is 
scarcely necessary for me to point out to you, a man 
of intelligence and good education, that there are 
points in every case, and especially in a case so mo- 
mentous as this, which an unjudicial, or, to speak 
more correctly, a mind not legally trained, is almost 
certain to overlook.” 

Prisoner. “ I understand your lordship, and I thank 
you; but if my acquittal of the terrible crime for 
which I am now being tried is to be brought about 
by legal technicalities, I shall prefer not to ow^e my 
release to those means. I, better than any man here 


4 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


— unless, indeed, the actual murderer be present — 
know whether I am innocent or guilty, and in the 
course I have determined to pursue I am acting in 
what I believe to be my best interests. Your lord- 
ship has referred to me as a man of intelligence and 
good education. These qualifications will suflicient- 
ly serve me, but I do not rely upon them alone. I 
have really had some sort of legal training, and as 
I assuredly know that I shall conduct my own de- 
fence in a manner which will recommend itself to 
my heart and my conscience, so do I believe that, 
if I choose to exercise it — and I suppose most men 
in my position would so choose — I have legal knowl- 
edge sufficient for my needs. The learned counsel 
who has addressed your lordship has put the matter 
most fairly. My consent that he should defend me 
was reluctantly given, and I reserved to myself the 
right to withdraw it. He has mentioned that this 
withdrawal is not personal to himself. It is true. 
To him, above all others, would I intrust my de- 
fence, were it not that I have cogent and imperative 
reasons for trusting no man. I shall not displease 
one so earnest and high-minded as he when I state 
that he once gave me his friendship, and that I felt 
honored by it. Yonr lordship will pardon me for 
this statement, the admission of whicli I feel to be 
unusual in such a case. I have made it only for the 
purpose of emphasizing his correct view. My lord, 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


I stand upon my rights. I will conduct my own 
defence.” 

The trial was then proceeded with. 


II. 

THE EVIDENCE OF JAMES MOORHOUSE, COACHMAN. 

The first witness called was James Moorhousej 
whose examination was looked forward to with great 
interest, as likely to tell heavily either for or against 
the prisoner. He is a sturdy man, of middle age, 
with an expression of intense earnestness in his face, 
and although he gave his evidence in a perfectly 
straightforward manner, it was apparent that his 
sympatliies were with the prisoner. 

The Attorney -general. ‘‘Your name is James 
Moorhotise ?” 

Witness. “ It is, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were you in the prisonei^’s 
employment ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In what capacity ?” 

Witness. “ As his coachman.” 

The Attorney-general. “ For how long were yon 
so employed ?” 

Witness. “ For a matter of three years.” 

The Attorney-general. “Are you a teetotaler?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 


6 


THE KINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. ^‘Daring the three years 
you worked for the prisoner were you in the habit 
of driving him out regularly ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir; pretty nearly every day.” 

Tlie Attorney-general. “ Were you the only coach- 
man on the establishment?” 

Witness. I was, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. Being in his employment 
so long, you are, I suppose, perfectly familiar with his 
figure ?” 

Witness. I am, sir; without hearing his voice, I 
should know him in the dark.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘You are sure of that ?” 

Witness. “ Quite sure, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Is your eyesight good ?” 

Witness. “ It is very strong. I can see a longish 
way.” 

The Attornej" - general. “You have been in the 
habit of driving the prisoner often at night?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “And your eyes, therefore, 
have got trained to his figure, as it were ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “You have had to lookout 
for him on dark nights from a distance?” 

Witness. “I have had to do that, sir.” 

The Attorney-genei’al. “When the people were 
coming out of a theatre, for instance?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


7 


Witness. Yes, sir ; and at other places as well.” 

The Attorney-general. Therefore, it is not likely 
you could be mistaken in him ?” 

Witness. It is hardly possible, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “You remember the night 
of the 25th of March ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir, and the day too.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Why do you include the 
day in your answer ?” 

Witness. “Because it was the hardest day’s'work 
I have done for many a year.” 

The Attorney-general. “ The hardest day’s driving, 
do you mean ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir. I was on the box from eleven 
o’clock in the morning till an hour past midnight.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Driving your master, the 
prisoner ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “And no other person?” 

Witness. “ Not till evening, sir. It was about — ” 

The Attorney-general. “ We will come to the par- 
ticulars presently. You were not driving all the 
time ?” 

Witness. “No, sir; the horses couldn’t have stood 
it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Do you mean that there 
were stoppages ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 


8 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. Did the prisoner usually 
work his horses so hard 

Witness. Not at all, sir. He was a good master 
to man and beast.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Why do you look so fre- 
quently at the prisoner?” 

Witness. “I can’t tell you, sir, except that I 
shouldn’t like to say anything to hurt him.” 

The Attorney-general. But you are here to speak 
the truth.” 

Witness. intend to speak it, sir.’^ 

The Attorney-general. For reasons which you 
have given, your remembrance of what occurred on 
the 25th of March is likely to be exceptionally 
faithful ?” 

Witness. ‘‘For those and other reasons, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “Now, commence on the 
morning of that day. What were your first in- 
structions ?” 

Witness. “ To be ready with the carriage at eleven 
o’clock.” 

The Attorney-general. “You were ready?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In wha4; way did you fix 
the time ? By guessing ?” 

Witness. “ By my watch, sir — the best time-keeper 
in London.” 

The Attorney-general. “At eleven o’clock, then, 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


9 


you were on the box, waiting for your mas- 
ter 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ He came out to you ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did he tell you immedi- 
ately where to drive to ?” 

Witness. “Not immediately, sir. He stood with 
his hand on the carriage door, and seemed to be con- 
sidering.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did he remain long con- 
sidering ?” 

Witness. “For three or four minutes, sir — which 
seemed a longish time.” 

The Attorney-general. “ And then ?” 

Witness. “ Then he told me to drive to Finch- 
ley.” 

The Attorney-general. “What address did he give 
you ?” 

Witness. “ None in particular, sir. He said, ^ Drive 
to Finchley, on the road to High Barnet. I will tell 
you when to stop.’” 

The Attorney-general. “Well?” 

Witness. “ I drove as directed, and when we were 
about midway between Finchley and High Barnet 
he called to me to stop.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were you then at the 
gate, or in the front of any house ?” 


10 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. “ Ko, sir. We were on the high-road, 
and there was no house within twenty yards of us.” 

The Attorney -general. ^‘Are you familiar with 
the locality ?” 

Witness. No, sir, I am not.” 

The Attorney - general. ^^You had never driven 
your master there before ?” 

Witness. Never, sir.” 

The Attorney -general. Would you be able to 
mark the point of stoppage on a map of the road 
between Finchley and High Barnet?” 

Witness. will try, sir, but I shouldn’t like to be 
positive.” 

(A map was here handed to the witness, who, af- 
ter a careful study of it, made a mark upon it with 
a pencil.) 

The Attorney -general. You will not swear that 
this is the exact spot ?” 

Witness. No, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ But to the best of your 
knowledge it is ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir, to the best of my knowledge.” 

The Attorney - general. ^^The prisoner called to 
you to stop. What then ?” 

Witness. drew up immediately, and he got 
out.” 

The Attorney-general. “What were his next in- 
structions ?” 


THE TRIAL OP EDWARD LAYTON. 


11 


Witness. told me to wait for him, and to turn 
tlie horses’ heads.” 

The Attorney-general. Towards London ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he say how long he 
would be away ?” 

Witness. “ About five or ten minutes, he said.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In point of fact, how long 
was it before he returned ?” 

Witness. “ Thirty-two minutes by my watch.” 

The Attorney -general. “You always time your- 
self ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir, always ; it’s a habit.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he make any remark 
upon his return, about his being away longer than he 
expected ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. He seemed to be occupied 
with something.” 

The Attorney-general. “Occupied in thinking of 
something ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney -general. “When he left you, in 
which direction did he go?” ' 

Witness. “ He walked on towards High Barnet 
till he came to a bend in the road. He went round 
that and I lost sight of him.” 

The Attorney - general. “Did he return the same 
way?” 


12 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. ‘‘ No, sir ; he startled me a bit.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How ?” 

Witness. was looking out for him in the di- 
rection he had taken, when I suddenly heard him 
speak at my elbow.” 

The Attorney-general. How do you account for 
it ?” 

Witness. He must have taken a short cut back 
across some fields. If I had been on my box I might 
have seen him, but I was standing in the road, and 
there was a hedge, more than man high, on the side 
he came back to me.” 

The Attorney-general. “What did you do when 
he reappeared ?” 

Witness. “ I prepared to start.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he tell you immedi- 
ately where to drive to ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. He stood considering, just as 
he did when we first set out.” 

The Attorney-general. “And then?” 

Witness. “He told me to drive back the way we 
had come, but not to drive too quickly.” 

The Attorney-general. “You did so?”/ 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney - general. “Where did you next 
stop ?” 

Witness. “Midway between Finchley and Crouch 
End.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


13 


The Attorney-general. “At a house?” 

Witness. “No, sir; at a part of the road where 
there were no houses.” 

The Attorney-general. “He called to you, as be- 
fore, to stop ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir. He got out, and said, ‘Moor- 
house, meet me here in about an hour or an hour and 
a quarter.’ I said, ‘ Yes, sir,’ and I asked him wheth- 
er I should bait the horses at an inn we had passed 
half a mile down the road. He did not answer me, 
but walked quickly away.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Can you say why he did 
not answer you ?” 

Witness. “ No, sir, except that he did not hear 
me.” 

The Attorney-general. “ You spoke distinctly ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Have you observed, at any 
time during your employment, that he was at all 
deaf ?” 

Witness. “No, sir; but he seemed, the whole of 
that day, to have something on liis mind which kept 
him from thinking of anything else, or attending to 
it.” 

The Attorney-general. “After he walked quickly 
away, what did you do ?” 

Witness. “As I had more than an hour to spare 
I drove back to the inn I spoke of, and baited my 


14 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


horses, and had a bite of bread-and- cheese my- 
self.’’ 

The Attorney-general. ^^Anything to drink?” 

Witness. ^^A bottle of ginger-beer.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Timing yourself as usual, 
were you back on the spot you left the prisoner at the 
end of the hour and a quarter ?” 

Witness. “ To the minute.” 

The Attorney-general. Was he waiting for you ?” 

Witness. ^^No, sir. I saw nothing of him for 
another two hours.” 

The Attorney - general. Did he return by the 
road he quitted you ?” 

Witness. No, sir. He came back another way.” 

The Attorney-general. ^^As before ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir, as before.” 

The Attorney-general. What time was it then ?” 

Witness. “ Seven o’clock.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was it getting dark?” 

Witness. “ It was already dark, sir, and beginning 
to drizzle.” 

The Attorney -general. “What were the next in- 
structions ?” > ' 

Witness. “To drive to the Metropolitan Music 
Hall, Edge ware Eoad.” 

The Attorney-general. “You drove there?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir, and my master got out.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Saying what ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


15 


Witness. “ Moorhoiise, he said, ‘ I don’t know how 
long I shall remain here. It may be an hour or only 
a few" minutes. Keep near.’ ” 

The Attorney -general. ‘‘You obeyed his instruc- 
tions ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir. I kept within hail, and my 
master came out at half-past nine.” 

The Attorney-general. “Alone?” 

Witness. “No, sir. He was accompanied by a 
man.” 

The Attorney-general. “A young or an old man?” 

Witness. “I can’t say.” 

The Attorney-general. “But you saw him ?” 

Witness. “ Only his back. They walked away 
from the carriage.” 

The Attorney-general. “ There is generally some- 
thing in the gait of a man which, within limits, de- 
notes his age — that is to say, as whether he is young 
or old ? Cannot you be guided by that fact ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. I paid no particular attention 
to him. It was my master I was chiefly observing.” 

The Attorney-general. “ You have not the slight- 
est idea as to the age of the man who came out of 
the Metropolitan Music Hall with the prisoner?” 

Witness. “ Not the slightest, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you observe nothing 
particmlar as to his dress? Was there any peculiari- 
ty about it ?” 


16 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. “I observed nothing particular about 
him. Whatever I might say of the man, paying such 
little attention to him, wouldn’t be worth much.” 

The Attorney-general. recognize that you are 
giving your evidence in a very fair manner, and if I 
press you upon any point it is for the purpose of as- 
sisting your memory. You recollect that the prisoner 
on that night wore a coat of a distinct pattern ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir. He had on an ulster with a 
Scotch check, which couldn’t be mistaken.” 

The Attorney-general. What was it lined with ?” 

Witness. “With blue cloth.” 

The Attorney-general. “ He wore this ulster when 
he entered the music hall ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir, and when he came out of the 
music hall.” 

The Attorney -general. “It is this which makes 
me think it likely you might have observed some dis- 
tinguishing mark in the dress of the man who came 
out with him 

Witness. “ I have nothing in my mind, sir, respect- 
ing his dress.” 

The Attorney-general. “Very well, I will no loii; 
ger press it. As to his height ?” 

Witness. “As well as I can remember, he was 
about the same height as my master.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you notice the color 
of his hair, or whether it was long or short ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


17 


Witness. No, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ If it had been long white 
hair, you would most likely have noticed it ?” 

Witness. “ In that case, yes, sir.” 

The Attorney - general. ^‘We may assume, then, 
that he had not long white hair ?” 

Witness. “ I think I am safe in saying that much.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘ Or white hair at all ?” 

Witness. “ I shouldn’t like to commit myself there, 
sir. If his hair had been white and short, I don’t 
think it would have struck me.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he and the prisoner 
walk out of sight ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. They walked to the corner of 
a street, and stood there talking for a little while — I 
should say for fifteen or twenty minutes. Then the 
man went away, down the street, which hid him from 
me, and my master returned to the carriage.” 

The Attorney-general. “ While they were talking, 
their backs were still turned to you ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Was there anything ob- 
.servable in their manner of conversing? Were they 
calm ? Did they remain perfectly still ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. My master was calm enough, 
but his companion appeared to be very excited. My 
master seemed to be trying to persuade him to do 
something.” 

2 


18 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. “ From their attitude, should 
you have assumed that his arguments prevailed 

Witness. can’t possibly saj^, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. Well, then, the man went 
away and the prisoner returned to you. What were 
his next directions ?” 

Witness. ‘^To drive to Bloomsbury Square, and 
stop where he directed me.” 

The Attorney-general. You did so?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir. When we reached the square 
in Queen Street he pulled the check-string, and I 
stopped there. He got out of the carriage and 
looked about him.” 

The Attorney-general. As if in search of some 
person ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. Did he make any remark 
to you ?” 

Witness. “ He said, ‘ If you see a young lady in 
a gray cloak pass by, you can tell her I am in the 
square.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he remain with you 
after that ?” 

Witness. “ Ho, sir ; he walked right round the 
square. When he came up to me he asked if I had 
seen a young lady dressed as he had described. I 
told him no, I hadn’t, and he bade me keep a sharp 
lookout, and left me again.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


19 


The Attorney-general. “ To walk round the square 
again ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir. He walked round three or 
four times, I should say, and every time he came up 
to me he asked me if I was sure I had not seen the 
young lady ; if I was sure she had not passed me. I 
gave him the same answer as I did before, and he 
left me again. He could not have been more than 
half-way round when I saw a lady in a gray cloak 
coming my way. She was walking hurriedly, and 
looking about her. I advanced to speak to her, but 
she started back the moment I made a step towards 
her, and ran to the other side of the road, and crossed 
into the square at a distance from me. I should 
have gone up to her had I not been afraid to leave 
my horses ; but seeing that she began to walk round 
the square in the opposite direction my master had 
taken, I was satisfied that they must meet.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In point of fact, did they 
meet ? Kelate what you saw that bears upon it.” 

Witness. “A little while afterwards I saw them 
together, talking to each other. They did not walk 
on the pavement close to the houses, but on the other 
side, close to the railings. I don’t know how many 
times they made the circle of the square, but they 
must have been away about twenty minutes or so. 
Then they came up to me together, and my master 
opened the door of the carriage, and the lady got in. 


20 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


When she was inside, he said to me that there was 
no occasion for me to mention what I had seen, or 
that he had spoken to me about the lady.” 

The Attorney-general. All this time was it rain- 
ing 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. Did they have umbrellas ?” 

Witness. Neither of them, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. They must have got wet ?” 

Witness. They couldn’t help getting wet.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did they seem to mind 
it?” 

Witness. “ They didn’t say anything about it.” 

The Attorney-general. While they were walking 
round the square, did they meet any persons ?” 

Witness. A few passed them, and they got out 
of their way, it seemed to me.” 

The Attorney - general. “ As if they desired to 
avoid observation ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney- general. ^‘That would be a rea- 
sonable construction to put upon the circumstance 
of their walking, during their conversation, on the 
least- frequented side of the square, near the rail- 
ings ?” 

Witness. Yes, I think so.” 

The Attorney-general. Although the neighbor- 
hood is a fairly busy one during the day, are there 


THE TBIAL OP EDWARD LAYTON. 


21 


many people passing through Bloomsbury Square at 
night 

Witness. Not many, I should say.” 

The Attorney-general. “ The square is not very 
well lighted up ?” 

Witness. “ Not very.” 

The Attorney-general. Did you see a policeman 
while you were waiting ?” 

Witness. “ One, and only once.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he speak to you ?” 

Witness. No, sir.” 

The Attorney -general. He passed on through the 
square ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Reference has been made 
to an ulster of a peculiar pattern which the prisoner 
was in the habit of wearing. You said it was an 
ulster which could not be mistaken. Are you cer- 
tain of that?” 

Witness. ‘‘ Quite certain.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘^Is it within your recol- 
lection how long the prisoner has worn this ulster ?” 

Witness. “He had it made last year.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Would you recognize it 
if you saw it ?” 

Witness. “ Oh yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Is this it ?” (Ulster pro- 
duced.) 


22 the nine of hearts. 

Witness. Yes, that is it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ You swear to it ?” 

Witness. do.” 

The Attorney -general. ‘‘You have said that the 
prisoner came out of his house wearing this ulster. 
Now, on the occasions you have described, when the 
prisoner left his carriage and returned to it, was this 
ulster ever off his back ?” 

Witness. “ He wore it all the time.” 

The Attorney-general. “You are positive he did 
not at any time leave you with this ulster on, and re- 
turn wearing another ?” 

Witness. “ I am positive of it.” 

The Attorney-general. “After the lady got into the 
carriage, and the prisoner told you there was no occa- 
sion for you to mention what you had seen, or that he 
had spoken to you about the lady, what did he do ?” 

Witness. “ He told me to drive to Prevost’s Res- 
taurant, in Church Street, Soho, and then he got into 
the carriage.” 

The Attorney-general. “At any time during the 
night did you see the lady’s face ?” 

Witness. “ Not at any time.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were you familiar with 
Prevost’s Restaurant ?” 

Witness. “No, I had never been there, and I was 
in doubt where Church Street was. I had to inquire 
my way.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


23 


The Attorney-general. Could not the prisoner 
tell you ?” 

Witness. “I asked him, and he said he could not 
direct me.” 

The Attorney-general. However, you found the 
restaurant ?” 

Witness. ^^Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘^And then?” 

Witness. “My master and the lady entered the 
restaurant.” 

The Attorney -general. “What did your master 
say to you ?” 

Witness. “He told me to wait near the door.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you know what time 
it was when you drew up at the restaurant ?” 

Witness. “ It was ten minutes to eleven.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How long were you kept 
waiting ?” 

Witness. “Exactly an hour and five minutes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ That will bring it to five 
minutes to twelve?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did the prisoner then 
come from the restaurant?” 

Witness. “Yes, accompanied by the lady.” 

The Attorney-general. “ It was still raining ?” 

Witness. “ Raining hard now.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did he appear fiurried? 
Was he excited?” 


24 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. His movements were veiy hurried, 
which I thought was due to the rain, and perhaps 
to his having had a little too much wine. He opened 
the door of the carriage quickly, and the lady jumped 
in, to avoid the rain, I suppose. My master got in 
quickly after her.” 

The Attorney-general. “But he gave you instruc- 
tions ?” 

Witness. “All he said was, ‘ Home !’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “Calmly?” 

Witness. “ No, sir. Although he only said one word, 
I noticed that his voice was thick. It was because of 
that I suspected he had taken a little too mucli wine.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you observe that he 
had his ulster on ?” 

Witness. “Yes, he had it on.” 

The Attorney -general. “You drove home — and 
then ?” 

Witness. “ My master got out, helped the lady 
out — no, I am making a mistake.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Commence again.” 

Witness. “ My master got out, opened the street 
door with his latch-key, then returned to the carriage 
and helped the lady out, and they both passed into 
the house.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Were his actions steady ?” 

Witness. “ They were not, sir. He seemed to be 
in a strange hurry.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


2.1 


The Attorney -general. “Did he say nothing to 
yon 

Witness. “ Nothing. And thinking my day’s 
work was over, I took the horses to the stable. I 
was glad enough.” 

The Attorney-general. “The prisoner was in the 
habit of carrying a latch-key 

Witness. “Yes, and always let himself into the 
house.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you observe whether 
the gas in the hall was lighted ?” 

Witness. “It was. It was always kept on when 
my master was out. His habit was to turn it off 
himself, the servants sometimes being abed.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Now, during the time you 
were in the prisoner’s employment, had you ever 
passed such a day as this you have described ?” 

Witness. “Never.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you ever know him 
to come home with a lady, alone, at that hour of the 
night ?” 

Witness. “ Never.” 

The Attorney-general. “All the incidents of the 
day were unusual ?” 

Witness. “Very unusual. I thought them very 
strange.” 

The Attorney-general. “ The question I am about 
to put is, in another form, partly a repetition of one 


26 


THE NIKE OF HEARTS. 


you have already answered. Did you ever know 
the prisoner to come home in the carriage late at 
night with a strange lady — that is, with any other 
lady than his wife 

Witness. “Never. With a gentleman sometimes, 
and sometimes with more than one gentleman ; but 
never with a strange lady.” 

The Attorney - general. “He occasionally came 
home late with friends ?” 

Witness. “Oh yes; but then his wife was always 
with him.” 

The Attorney - general. “During the last few 
months was this usual ?” 

Witness. “ No. Mrs. Layton was an invalid, and 
seldom drove out — not once during the last three or 
four months at night.” 

The Attorney-general. “ On the day we have gone 
through — the 25th of March — did you see anything 
of Mrs. Layton ?” 

Witness. “ No, sir, she was seriously ill.” 

The Attorney - general. “That, however, is not 
within your personal observation ?” 

Witness. “No, sir. My duties were outside the 
house.” 

The Attorney - general. “ The ^ady whom he 
brought home on the night of th4^25th of March 
was not his wife ?” w. 

Witness. “No, sir. Mrs. Laytgjy had been con- 
fined to her room for several wee^.” 


teE TRIAL OP EDWARD LAYTON. 2Y 

The Attorney -general. You are quite positive on 
this point ?” 

Witness. ‘‘ Quite positive, sir.’’’ 

The Attorney-general. “ That will do.” 

(To the surprise of every person in court, who ex- 
pected that the witness would be subjected to a long 
cross-examination, the prisoner asked but few ques- 
tions.) 

Prisoner. You say that at five minutes to twelve 
I came out of Prevost’s Restaurant 

Witness. “You and the lady, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ It was a dark night ?” 

Witness. “ It was, sir.” 

Prisoner. “Did I call for you?” 

Witness. “ No, sir. I saw you come out of the res- 
taurant witli the lady, and I drew up at once. I was 
within half a dozen yards of the door.” 

Prisoner. “ When the lady and I got into the car- 
riage, as you say, and I called out, ‘ Home !’ you ob- 
served that my voice was thick and my manner fiur- 
ried ?” 

Witness. “Yes, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ Did it occur to you then, or does it 
occur to you now, that the voice which uttered that 
word was not my voice ?” 

Witness. “ No, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ You are certain it was my voice ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 


28 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Prisoner. I wore iny ulster ?” 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

Prisoner. You drove home, and yon saw me open 
the street door with a latch - key and pass into the 
house with the lady ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

Prisoner. Still with my ulster on ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ Did I turn my face towards you ?” 

Witness. No, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ If I had done so, could you have recog- 
nized my features in the darkness?” 

Witness. “ Scarcely, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ You know nothing more ?” 

Witness. “ Nothing more, sir.” 

Prisoner. “ I do not put the question offensively — 
you have been a good servant, and I have never had 
occasion to find fault with you — but you are positive 
that the version you have given of my later move- 
ments is correct ?” 

Witness (who appeared much distressed). I am 
positive, sir.” 

Prisoner. have nothing more to ask, Moor- 
house.” 

Witness. “ Thank you, sir.” 

Ee-exarained. You are a strict teetotaler?” 

Witness. Yes, sir.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you take any ale or 
spirits during the day ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


39 


Witness. sir. I have touched neither for 

yeai*s.” 

The Attorney-general. The prisoner’s figure be- 
ing familiar to you, and your eyesight being so strong 
that you could distinguish him in the darkness, is it 
likely that you could be mistaken in him on this 
night ?” 

Witness (reluctantly). ‘^It is not likely, sir.” 

The Attorney -general. “Scarcely possible?” 

Witness. “ Scarcely possible, sir.” 


III. 

THE EVIDENCE OF ADOLF WOLFSTEIN, WAITER. 

The next witness called was Adolf Wolfstein, a 
waiter in Prevost’s Restaurant. 

The Attorney - general. “Your name is Adolf 
Wolfstein ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “What is your trade?” 

Witness. “ I am a waiter.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Where are you em- 
ployed ?” 

Witness. “At Prevost’s, in Church Street, Soho.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How long have you been 
in employment there?” 

Witness. “ A little more than seven weeks.” 


BO 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney - general. Do you remember the 
date on which you entered your present service ?” 

Witness. ‘‘Yes, it was the 25th of March.” 

The Attorney-general. “ So that the 25th of March 
is impressed upon your memory 

Witness. “It is for another reason impressed upon 
my memory.” 

The Attorney -general. “Simply answer the ques- 
tions I put to you. You are a German?” 

Witness. “No, I am French.” 

The Attorney-general. “But your name is Ger- 
man, is it not ?” 

Witness. “ Wolf stein is. It was my father’s name, 
who settled in France when he was a young man.” 

The Attorney-general. “You understand English 
perfectly ?” 

Witness. “ Oh yes ; perfectly. I spoke it when I 
was a boy.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Look at the prisoner. Do 
you recognize him ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you see him on the 
25 th of March ?” 

Witness. “ Yes. Monsieur came to the restaurant 
on that day.” 

The Attorney-general. “At what hour?” 

Witness. “At eleven o’clock at night.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was he alone?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


31 


vVituess. “ No; monsieur had a ladj" with him.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘^Did he occupy a private 
room ? If you wish to explain yourself on this mat- 
ter you can do so.” 

Witness. “I was coming down -stairs when I saw 
monsieur enter from the street with a lady. He 
looked about him, and seeing me, asked if he could 
have supper in a private room. I showed mon- 
sieur and madame up-stairs to a room in which I 
served.” 

The Attorne3^-general. What occurred then ?” 

Witness. “ I handed monsieur the menuP 

The Attorney - general. ^^In English, the bill of 
fare ?” 

Witness. ^^Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. What did he order ?” 

Witness. Tortue claire.” 

The Attorney - general. “ In English, clear turtle 
soup?” 

Witness. ^^Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. Did he consult the lady ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorn ej’^-general. “Was he long in selecting 
the kind of soifp he ordered ?” 

Witness. “ No. It was on the instant.” 

The Attorney-general. “ He merely glanced at the 
bill of fare?” 

Witness. “ That is so.” 


32 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. “ Did you get the soup aB-d 
place it before him?” 

Witness. first asked monsieur, ^ For two ?’ He 
said, quickly, ‘ Yes, for two.’ Then I served it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In a tureen ?” 

. Witness. ‘‘ Yes, in a tureen.” 

The Attorney - general. “ When you placed the 
soup before him, did he order any wine ?” 

Witness. I handed monsieur the wine-list, and he 
said, ^ Champagne.’ I asked him of what kind. He 
said, ^ The best.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. You brought the best?” 

Witness. ^^Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. That is, the most expen- 
sive ?” 

Witness. Of necessity.” 

The Attorney - general. “ When you placed the 
wane before him, did you observe anything that 
struck you as unusual ?” 

Witness. Yes ; it was that, like other people, they 
should have been drinking their soup, or have finish- 
ed it; but they had not drunk it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Had it been served from 
the tureen into their plates ?” 

Witness. “ No, not a spoonful. It was as I brought 
it — not touched.” 

The Attorney -general. As they were not eating, 
what were they doing ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


33 


Witness. ^‘They were engaged in conversation.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘Very earnestly?” 

Witness. “ Very earnestly.” 

The Attorney-general. “ And speaking very low ?” 

Witness. “Very low.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Did you hear anything 
they said ?” 

Witness. “Not a word.” 

The Attorney-general. “Upon observing that they 
had not commenced their soup, did you make any 
remark ?” 

Witness. “Yes. I said, ‘Does not monsieur like 
the soup V ” 

The Attorney-general. “What was his answer?” 

Witness. “ He answered, ‘ Oh yes, it is very 
good,’ and slightly pushed the tureen away with his 
hand.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Indicating that he had 
done with it ?” 

Witness. “I regarded it so, and I removed it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he object to its being 
removed ?” 

Witness. “No, not at all.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did the lady object — did 
she seem surprised ?” 

Witness. “No; she said not a word, nor did she 
look surprised.” 

The Attorney-general. “Your answer to the last 
3 


34 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


question causes me to ask whether the lady was old 
or young ?” 

Witness. ^^But I do not know.” 

The Attorney-general. “You said she did not look 
surprised ?” 

Witness. “ It is that she did not appear surprised. 
She did not look up. In truth, she had her veil down.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Had she removed her 
cloak ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did she keep it on all the 
time she was in the room ?” 

Witness. “Yes; all the time.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Now, when you asked the 
prisoner if he liked the soup, and he answered, ^ Oh 
yes, it is very good,’ you were surprised to find that 
they had not drunk a spoonful ?” 

Witness. “ Why, yes, it was surprising.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did the prisoner pour out 
the champagne ?” 

Witness. “ I filled a glass for madame and one for 
monsieur.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Did the prisoner order 
another dish ?” 

Witness. “ I asked monsieur, ‘ What will you have 
to follow?’ and handed him the menu — the bill of 
fare. He said, ^Salmon cutlets.’ ‘For two, mon- 
sieur ?’ I asked. ‘For two,’ he said. I served them.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


85 


The Attorney-geueral. “ Did he at any time sum- 
mon you by ringing the bell 

Witness. “ No. It appeared to me that monsieur 
did not wish to be disturbed; therefore I did not 
disturb him, but I noticed — ” 

The Attorney-general. “You noticed what?” 

Witness. “That, as with the soup, monsieur ate 
nothing, and helped madame to nothing. I waited 
till I thought it was time, and then I went to the 
table and asked whether he did not like the salmon 
cutlets. Monsieur answered, ‘ Oh yes, they are very 
good,’ and pushed them away as before. I removed 
them, as with the soup. ‘ What will monsieur have 
to follow?’ I asked. ‘Ices,’ he said. ‘Yanille?’ I 
asked. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘ Vanille.’ I brought them. 
They were not eaten.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did they drinl^ the wine?” 

Witness. “Monsieur once raised his glass to his 
lips, but tasted it only, and as if he had no heart in 
it.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did he order anything 
else?” 

Witness. “No. When I asked him, he said, ‘The 
bill.’ I brought it.” 

The Attorney-general. “What did it amount to?” 

Witness. “One pound four shillings.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How much of the cham- 
pagne was drunk ?” 


36 


TH51 NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. a glass — not more.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘^Did not the lady drink 
any of hers ?” 

Witness. “ Not any.” 

The Attorney - general. “Did the prisoner make 
any remark as to the amount of the bill ?” 

Witness. “Oh no; he gave rne a sovereign and a 
half-sovereign, and said, ‘ That will do.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “Meaning that you could 
keep the change ?” 

Witness. “ I took it so, and he said nothing.” 

The Attorney-general. “A good customer?” 

Witness. “A very good customer. Not many such.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Without a murmur or a 
remark, the prisoner paid you thirty sliillings for half 
a glass of champagne ?” 

Witness. “That is so. It was, as I say, surprising. 
I did not forget it.” 

The Attorney -general. “It was not a circumstance 
to forget. Ton say that the lady who accompanied 
the prisoner did not remove her cloak or veil. Was 
that the case the whole of the time she was in the 
room ?” 

Witness. “The whole of the time.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Her gloves — did she wear 
those the whole of the time ?” 

Witness. “But, no. I remember once seeing her 
hand ungloved.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 37 

The Attorney-getieral. “ Her right or left hand ? 
He particular in your answer, and think before you 
speak, if it is necessary. My object is to ascertain 
whether the lady was married, and wore a wedding- 
ring.” 

Witness (smiling). But a wedding-ring matters 
not. Those wear them who are not married.” 

The Attorney -general. “Reply to my question. 
Was it her right or her left hand which you saw un- 
gloved ?” 

Witness. “ I cannot remember.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Try.” 

Witness. “ It is of no use. I cannot remember.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Canyon remember wheth- 
er it was a small or a large hand ?” 

Witness. “ It was a small white hand.” 

The Attorney-general. “ The hand, presumably, of 
a lady?” 

Witness. “Or of a member of the theatre. Who 
can tell ? We have many such.” 

The Attorney-gerieral. “Were there rings upon 
her fingers ?” 

Witness. “ I observed one of turquoises and dia- 
monds.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was it a ring with any 
particular setting by which it could be identified ?” 

Witness. “A ring set with diamonds and tur- 
quoises. That is all I know.” 


38 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney -general. “Would jon recognize it 
again if you saw it 

Witness. “I cannot say. I think not. I did not 
particularly remark it.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you remark the color 
of her gloves ?” 

Witness. “ They were black gloves.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Of kid ?” 

Witness. “Yes, of kid.” 

The Attorney-general. “ At what time did the pris- 
oner and his companion leave the restaurant ?” 

Witness. “ It must have been about twelve.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Why do you say ‘ It must 
have been about twelve V ” 

Witness. “ Because I did not see them leave the 
room.” 

The Attorney-general. “You can, however, fix the 
time within a few minutes?” 

Witness. “Oh yes. At a quarter to twelve, as 
near as I can remember, I had occasion to go down- 
stairs. Wlien I returned, after three or four min- 
utes, monsieur and madame were gone.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were you aware that they 
had a carriage waiting for them ?” 

Witness. “ Only that I heard so. I did not see it.” 

(The witness was then briefly cross-examined by 
the prisoner.) 

Prisoner. “You say that you saw me enter the 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


39 


restaurant from the street, and that I asked you if I 
could have supper in a private room?” 

Witness. “That is so.” 

Prisoner. “ Did you show me into a private 
room ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “Where other persons could not en- 
ter?” 

Witness. “ Oh no ; it was a room for six or eight 
persons.” 

Prisoner. “During the time I was there, did you 
attend to other persons besides me ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “The room was not strictly private?” 

Witness. “As private as I have said.” 

Prisoner. “ What was the first thing I did when I 
went to the table you pointed out to me ?” 

Witness. “You removed your overcoat. It was 
wet with rain ; and it surprised me that madaine did 
not remove hei’S, which was also wet with rain.” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. “ Do not make remarks. 
Simply answer the questions put to you.” 

.Witness. “Yes, my lord.” 

Prisoner. “ What did I do with the overcoat when 
1 had taken it off?” 

Witness. “ You hung it up behind you.” 

Prisoner. “ On a peg in the wall ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 


40 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Prisoner. Was this peg quite close to the table at 
which I sat 

Witness. ^^No, it was at a little distance.’’ 

Prisoner. “ At the back of me ?” 

Witness. ‘^Yes.” 

Prisoner. “Did I put the overcoat on before I left 
the room ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. “You have said in exami- 
nation that you did not see the prisoner and his com- 
panion leave the room.” 

Witness. “ But when 1 returned, after being away 
for three or four minutes, monsieur was gone, and 
the coat was also gone.” 

Prisoner. “ Then you did not see me put on the 
overcoat ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

Prisoner. “ I have nothing more to ask you.” 

Ke-exainined. “Would you be able to recognize 
the overcoat which the prisoner wore ?” 

Witness. “ Oh yes; it was remarkable.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Is this it ?” (Ulster pro- 
duced.) 

Witness. “Yes; it is the same.” 

At this stage the court adjourned for luncheon. 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


41 


IV. ‘ 7 

THE EVIDENCE OF LUMLEY RICH, DETECTIVE OFFICER. 

THE NINE OF HEARTS. , - 

Upon the reassembling of the court, the hrst wit* 
ness called was Lumley Eich. . 

The Attorney-general. “ You belong to the detect- 
ive force . - 

Witness. “Ido.” 

The Attorney - general. “On the 26tli of* March 
were you called to the prisoner’s house ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “At what hour of the morn- 
ing?”! . . 

Witness. “At seven o’clock.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was the prisoner in the 
house at the time ?” 

Witness. “ He was not.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Whom did you see for the 
purpose of information ?” 

Witness. “ The prisoner’s coachman, James Moor- 
house, and Ida AVhite, lady’s-maid, and other serv- 
ants.”. . _ 

The Attorney-general. “ What passed between you 
and the coachman?” 

Witness. “ I asked him at what time on the previ- 
ous night the prisoner returned home. ^He said at 


42 


THE NINE OF HEAKTS. 


about twenty minutes past twelve, and that the pris^ 
oner entered his house accompanied by a lady, open- 
ing the street door with his latch-key. I asked him 
if he had seen the prisoner since, and he replied that 
he had not. I asked him from what part of his dress 
the prisoner took the latch-key, and he replied, from 
the pocket of the ulster he wore.” 

The Attorney-general. “Although the prisoner was 
not at home, was this ulster in his house ?” 

Witness. “ Yes, it was hanging on the coat-rack in 
the hall.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you take possession 
of it?” 

Witness. “ I did.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you search the pock- 
ets?” 

Witness. “'Yes.” 

The Attorney - general. “ What did you find in 
them ?” 

Witness. “ The latch-key of the street door and a 
playing-card.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Nothing else ?” 

Witness. “ Nothing else.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Is this the latch - key ?” 
(Latch-key produced.) 

Witness. “It is.” 

The Attorney-general. “Is this the playing-card?” 
(Playing-card, the Nine of Hearts, produced.) 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 43 

Witness. ‘‘It is.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How do you recognize it ?” 

Witness. “ By a private mark I put in the corner.” 

The Attorney-general. “ There was absolutely noth- 
ing else in the pockets of the ulster ?” 

Witness. “ Nothing else.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you see the prisoner 
before you left the house?” 

Witness. “I did.” 

The Attoi ney-general. “ Describe what passed.” 

Witness. “The prisoner suddenly made his ap- 
pearance while I was questioning the servants, and 
inquired my business tliere. I told him I was an 
officer, and that I was there because of his wdfe being 
found dead in her bed. ‘ Dead !’ lie cried ; ‘ my 
wife!’ and he rushed to her room. I followed him. 
He looked at her and sunk into a chair. He seemed 
stupefied. I had his ulster coat hanging on my arm, 
and I told him I had taken possession of it. He 
nodded vacantly. A moment or two afterwards he 
laid his hand upon the ulster, and demanded to know 
where I had obtained it. I informed him, from the 
coat-rack in the hall. He cried, ‘ Impossible !’ and 
as it seemed to me he was about to speak again, I 
informed him that anything he said might be used 
in evidence against him. ‘In evidence!’ he cried, 
‘against me !’ ‘ Yes,’ I replied ; ‘ there has been mur- 
der done here.’ ‘ Murder !’ he cried ; ‘ and I am sus- 


44 


THE NINE OF 'HEARTS. 


pected !’ To that remark I did not reply, but repeat- 
ed, my caution. He said, ‘Thank you,’ and did not 
utter^another word.” 

The prisoner did not cross-examine the witness; 
and this was the more surprising as it was remarked 
by all in court that upon tlie production of the play- 
ing-card, the Nine of Hearts, he was greatly agitated. 


V. 

THE EVIDENCE OF IDA WHITE, LADy’s-MAID. 

The next witness called was Ida White, an attract- 
ive-looking woman about thirty years of age. 

The Attorney-general. “What is your name?” 

Witness. “Ida White.” 

The Attorney - general. “Do you know the pris- 
oner?” ■ 

Witness. “ Yes ; he was my master.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In what capacity were you 
employed ?” 

Witness. “ I was lady’s-maid to his wife, my poor 
dead mistress.” ' 

The Attorney-general. “ Were you in her service 
before she was married 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney -general. “What was her maiden 
name?” 

Wifness. “Agnes Beach.” 


THE TillAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


45 


The Attorney - general. “When yon first entered 
her service were her parents alive?” 

Witness. “ Both of them.” 

The Attorney-general. “Do they still live?^’ 

Witness. “No. Mrs. Beach died on rny mistress’s 
wedding-day; Mr. Beach died in February of tliis 
year.” 

The Attorney - general. “Was your late mistress 
very much affected at her mother’s death ?” 

Witness. “She almost lost her reason. She fell 
into a fever, and was scarcely expected to live. It 
was weeks before she recovered.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Have you any knowledge 
of the circumstances of your mistress’s engagement 
with the prisoner?” 

Witness. “ She was very much in love with him.” 

The Attorney-general. “And he with her?” 

Witness. “ I don’t think so.” 

The Attorney -general. “And according to your 
observation, not being in love^ with her, he engaged 
himself to her ?” 

Witness. “ Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was she a good-looking 
woman ?” 

Witness. “ She would not generally be considered 
so.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Is this a fairly good like- 
ness of her?” 


46 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


(Photograph of- the deceased produced, which, after 
the witness had examined it, was handed to the jury. 
It represented a woman, very plain, with a face which 
seemed to lack intelligence.) 

Witness. “ It is very like her.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was she strong-minded?” 

Witness. “No, she was not; but she was very ob- 
stinate when she took it into her head.” 

The Attorney-general. “ How old was she at the 
time of her engagement with the prisoner?” 

Witness. “ Twenty-eight.” 

The Attorney -general. “Do you know the pris- 
oner’s age at the time ?” 

Witness. “My mistress told me he was twenty- 
four.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Was she well-formed ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Had slie a good figure ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Many plain women have 
some peculiar attraction, either in manners or feat- 
ures. Had she anything of this kind to distinguish 
her?” 

Witness. “ I cannot say she had.” 

The Attorney -general. “ But there might have been 
other attractions. Was she brilliant in conversation ?” 

Witness. “On the contrary. She had very little 
to say for herself upon general subjects.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


47 


The Attorney-general. Bat she was passionately 
in love with the prisoner 

Witness. ‘‘Passionately.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did she limp 

Witness. “Yes. One leg was shorter than the 
other.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Had she known the pris- 
oner for any length of time before the engagement?” 

Witness. ‘“For a few weeks only, I believe.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In what way did he make 
her acquaintance ?” 

Witness. “ He came to the house.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In a friendly way ?” 

Witness. “He came first upon business.” 

The Attorney-general. “ To see whom ?” 

Witness. “ My mistress’s father, Mr. Beach.” 

The Attorney-general. “Upon what business?” 

Witness. “ Upon betting business, my mistress , 
said.” 

The Attorney-general. “What was Mr. Beach’s oc- 
cupation ?” 

Witness. “ He was a book-maker.” 

The Attorney-general. “A betting man?” 

Witness. “Yes. He used to make large books.” 

The Attorney-general. “On racing?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney - general. “Was he an educated 
man ?” 


48 


THE NINE OP HEARTS. 


Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Would you call him a vul- 
gar man ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did he move in good so- 
ciety ?” 

Witness. “ He did not.” 

The Attorney-general. “ But he was rich ?” 

Witness. “Very rich. He drank a great deal of 
champagne.” 

The Attorney-general. “You say the prisoner first 
came to the house upon business. Do you know 
upon what particular business ?” 

Witness. “ It was something about horses, and bets 
he had made upon them.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Bets which he had lost ?” 

Witness. “ Yes.” 

The Attorney - general. “ How was it that your 
mistress became acquainted with him on that oc- 
casion, when the fact was that he came upon busi- 
ness ?” 

Witness. “ He was asked by Mr. Beach to stay to 
dinner, and he stayed.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Mr. Beach, you say, was 
not in good society. Had he any desire to get into 
it?” 

Witness. “ He was crazy about it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Upon the first occasion of 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


49 


the prisoner dining at Mr. Beach’s housej did your 
mistress make any remark with reference to the pris- 
oner ?” 

Witness. “ She never ceased speaking about him. 
She said she had seen the handsomest man in the 
world.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Narrate as briefly as you 
can what occurred between your mistress and the 
prisoner up to the time they were engaged.” 

Witness. He came flve or six times to the house, 
and every time he came my mistress was more and 
more in love with him. I understood from what she 
told me that he was in diflSciilties, and that he had 
lost a great deal of money at horse-racing.” 

The Attorney - general. ‘^Did he keep racing 
h(i?ses ?” 

Witness. “ I did not understand that, but that he 
had been betting upon horses. There w^as money 
owing not only to Mr. Beach, but to other book-mak- 
ers as well, and the prisoner wished Mr. Beach to 
arrange the whole matter. ‘Those things are easily 
arranged,’ I said to my mistress; ‘all you have to 
do is to pay.’ ‘ But supposing you haven’t the mon- 
ey to pay V asked my mistress. ‘ I thought Mr. Lay- 
ton was a gentleman,’ I said. ‘ There are poor gen- 
tlemen as well as rich gentlemen,’ my mist]*ess said, 
‘ and my papa gets a lot of money out of all sorts of 
people.’ That was true enough; I have heard him 
4 


50 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


and his friends chuckling over it many times, and 
Mr. Beach used to call them a lot of something fools. 
I heard a great deal about ^ swells,’ as Mr. Beach 
called them, being mined by backing horses, and I 
knew that that was the way he had grown rich. He 
used to say that he had got a lot of stuck-up swells 
under his thumb. V/caii ai-range Mr. Layton’s busi- 
ness with papa,’ my mistress said ; and when I found 
her practising songs at the piano, out of time and out 
of tune — for she had no ear for music — I knew that 
she was making up to him. It came about as she 
wished, and one night she told me she was the happi- 
est woman in the world — that Mr. Layton had pro- 
posed and she had accepted him.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘Were there rejoicings in 
the house ?” 

Witness. “A good many big dinners were given, 
but I can’t say much for the company. My mistress 
was sometimes very happy, and sometimes very miser- 
able. To-day she complained that he was cold to 
her, to-morrow she would go on in the most ridicu- 
lous way because he gave her a flower, as though it 
was better than a big diamond.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did he seem to be want- 
ing in attention to her during the courtship ?” 

Witness. “He wasn’t a very warm lover, as far as 
I could see. But my mistress was so much in love 
that she put up with anything. He had only to give 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


51 


her a smile or a pleasant word, and you would think 
she was in heaven.” 

The Attorney-general. How did the prisoner get 
along with Mr. Beach ?” 

Witness. “I know they had words on two or three 
occasions.” 

The Attorney-general. About what?” 

Witness. “About the settlements. My mistress 
told me, and she said her father was a screw.” 

The Attorney-general. “ A screw ! What was 
meant by the word ?” 

Witness. “That he was mean and sharp, that was 
what she meant.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Go on. That her father 
was a screw — ” 

Witness. “And wanted to bind Mr. Layton down 
too tight. He had conversations with her about it.” 

The Attorney-general. “ He ! Who ?” 

Witness. “ Mr. Layton.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did he seek these con- 
versations ?” 

Witness. “Oh no; they were of her seeking. She 
was afraid that something might occur to break off 
the engagement. She said to me more than once, 
‘If anything goes wrong, I sha’n’t care to live.’ I 
never in all my life saw a woman so madly in love 
as she was.” 

The Attorney-general. “Do you know the result 


52 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


of those conversations about the settlements between 
the prisoner and jmur mistress 

Witness. “Both Mr. Beach and Mr. La.y ton stood 
out, and I don’t believe either of them would have 
given way if my mistress had not taken it up. She 
and her father had some warm scenes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ By ^ warm ’ do you mean 
‘ angry V ” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Whose money was it that 
was in dispute ?” 

Witness. “ Mr. Beach’s. He was rich ; Mr. Lay- 
ton had no money to settle. My mistress used to 
say, ^ I know that I am not very handsome, but I can 
make Mr. Layton comfortable all his life, and I am 
sure we shall get along very well together. Papa 
shall do whatever I want.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “ Tlien is it your impression 
that the prisoner paid court to her for her money ?” 

Witness. “ I don’t think he would have looked at 
her else.” 

The Attorne3^-general. “ And that your mistress 
was aware of it ?” 

Witness. “ Slie must have had some notion of it, 
but it couldn’t have been a pleasant thing for her to 
talk much about, and it seemed to me that she was 
glad to avoid it. She didn’t think she was as plain 
as she was. No woman does.” 


THE TKIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


53 


The Attorney-general. “ How was the matter final- 
ly arranged 

Witness. “The money was settled upon my mis- 
tress, and after her death it was to go to Mr. Layton.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Do you know what the 
amount was ?” 

Witness. “ My mistress told me it was £20,000.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Which would come abso- 
lutely into the prisoner’s possession when his wife 
died?” 

Witness. “I understood so. My mistress did say 
something else about the settlement. ‘ There’s one 
thing I would like put in about the money,’ she said, 
‘ and that is, that it shouldn’t be his if he married 
again ; but I would not dare to mention it.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did she give you a reason 
for not daring to mention it ?” 

Witness. “ Yes; that he would break the engage- 
ment.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Now, about the wedding. 
Was it a private or public wedding ?” 

Witness. “Not private — oh no, not at all! there 
were at lekst a hundred at the wedding breakfast, 
and any amount of champagne was opened.” 

The Attorney-general. “ What kind of company ?” 

Witness. “ Mixed — very much mixed.” 

The Attorney -general. “ Be more explicit. Were 
tjiei;e many of Mr. Beach’s set there ?” 


54 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. ‘‘ They were all of his set.” 

The Attorney-general. But some of the prisoner’s 
friends wei-e there as well ?” 

Witness. Not one. There were words about it.” 

The Attorney-general. On the wedding-day ?” 

Witness. ‘‘Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Words between whom?” 

Witness. “ Between Mr. Beach and Mr. Layton. 
I heard Mr. Beach say, ‘ I gave you thirty invitations 
to fill up and Mr. Layton answered, ‘ I didn’t fill 
up one of them. I didn’t intend that a friend of 
mine should meet such a crew as I knew you would 
get together.’ ‘ Not good enough for you, I sup- 
pose?’ said Mr. Beach. ‘No,’ said Mr. Layton, 
‘ decidedly not good enough,’ and then he walked 
away.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did your mistress make 
any remark on the subject ?” 

Witness. “No; she was too happy to find fault 
with anything. She was delighted, too, with the 
wedding presents. There was nearly a room full of 
them.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Many of them from the 
prisoner’s friends ?” 

Witness. “ Not one.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Do you mean to inform 
the court that not a single friend or relative of the 
prisoner’s was present, and that among the wedding 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


55 


presents there was not a single token from his con- 
nections ?” 

Witness. “ Not a single one.” 

The Attorney-general. Well, they were married, 
and they went away ?” 

Witness. ‘‘Yes; they took the night train to 
Paris.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did you accompany 
them ?” 

Witness. “ No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did your mistress’s moth- 
er die before they left ?” 

Witness. “No; some hours afterwards, and a tele- 
gram was sent on to them in Paris, at the Hotel 
Bristol.” 

The Attorney-general. “What is the next thing 
you remember ?” 

Witness. “ A telegram arrived from Mr. Layton, 
requesting me to come to Paris immediately. We 
received the telegram at about two o’clock on the 
day after the wedding, and I went by the night 
train.” 

The Attorney - genei*al. “Did any person meet 
you ?” 

Witness. “Yes; Mr. Layton. He said my mistress 
was very ill, and lie took me to the hotel. She was 
in bed, and she remained there for several weeks. 
I attended her the whole of the time.” 


56 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. Did she have good doc- 
tors ?” 

Witness. The best that could be got.” 

The Attorney-General. Was the prisoner attentive 
toiler?” 

Witness. ^‘Pretty well ; /shouldn’t have liked it.” 

Tiie Attorney-general. ‘‘ What do you mean by 
that ?” 

Witness. “Well, he never sat by her bedside for 
any length of time ; he never held her hand ; he 
never kissed her. Oh, it is easy to tell when a man 
loves a woman !” 

The Attorney-general. “ How long was it before 
she was able to get about ?” 

Witness. “ Quite three months.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did she then return to 
England with her husband ?” 

Witness. “ Not for another month. They went to 
Italy, and I went with them.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did the prisoner’s atten- 
tions to his wife undergo any marked change after 
her convalescence ? Was he more affectionate — 
more lovingly attentive ?” 

Witness. “ Not that I saw. All he seemed to 
crave for was excitement. It was nothing but rush- 
ing here and iTishing there. Every night some the- 
atre or entertainment to go to; every day riding 
about, and dining out at different places.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


57 


The Attorney - general. that there was not 
much of home life 

Witness. “None at all.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was this state of things 
agreeable to your mistress ?” 

Witness. “I am not sure. Sometimes she sug- 
gested to Iier husband that they should spend a quiet 
evening at home, but he always replied that he had 
tickets, or had taken seats, for some place of enter- 
tainment. When she spoke to me of the life they 
were leading, she used to say how attentive her hus- 
band was to her, and how he was alwaj^s looking out 
for something to amuse her. But I did not regard 
it in that light; I thought it was more for himself 
than for her that he kept up such a round of excite- 
ment. It helped him to forget.” 

The Attorney-general. “ To forget what ?” 

Witness. “That he was a married man.” 

The Attorney-general. “During those early days 
were there any quarrels between them ?” 

Witness. “No, not what you can call quarrels. 
Sometimes she complained, or found fault, but he 
seldom at that time answered her in any way to cause 
a quarrel — that is, so far as he was concerned. It was 
different afterwards. There were occasions during 
their honey-moon — if you can call it a honey-moon — 
and at first when they were settled at home, when his 
silence provoked my mistress, and made her madder 


58 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


than an open row would have done. But the more 
she stormed the quieter he was, and these scenes al- 
ways ended in one way : Mr. Layton would leave the 
house, and remain absent for a good many hours. 
Then my poor mistress would torment herself dread- 
fully, and would cry her eyes out, and rave and stamp 
about like a distracted creature. ‘He will never 
come back !’ she would say. ‘ I have driven him from 
me! He willjnake away with himself! What a 
wretch I am !’ A ring at the bell or a knock at the 
door would send her flying down-stairs to see if it 
was her husband. I was really afraid sometimes that 
she would go quite out of her mind. Then, when he 
came back, she would rush up to him and throw her 
arms round his neck, and sob, and fall upon her knees 
to ask forgiveness. It was a dreadful life to lead.” 

The Attorney-general. “ In what way would the 
prisoner receive these tokens of penitence on the part 
of your mistress ?” 

Witness. “ In just the same way as he received her 
scoldings. The one remark I heard him make to 
her in those days — not always in the same words, but 
always to the same effect — was, ‘ You should have 
more control over yourself.’ I used to wonder that 
a man could be so provoked and keep so cool. But a 
person may be cold outside and hot inside.” 

The Attorney -general. “Do you think that was 
the case with the prisoner?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


59 


Witness. “Yes, I do think so.” 

The Attorney - general. “Well, they came home 
and settled down?” 

Witness. “ Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Now about the home they 
occupied? Did they rent it, or was it their own prop- 
erty?” 

Witness. “ It was their own property. My mis- 
tress said it was purchased partly with her own inom 
ey, and that it was included in tlie settlements.” 

The Attorney -general. “What do you mean by 
‘partly with her own money?’ — money she had saved 
or inherited ?” 

Witness. “ No ; money she won upon races.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Was she, then, in the hab- 
it of betting?” 

Witness. “ She used often to put money on a horse. 
She would say, ‘ Papa has given me a good tip, and I 
am going to put twenty or thirty pounds on. If you 
like, Ida, you can have half a sovereign with me.’ ” 

Tlie Attorney -general. “And did you?” 

Witness. “Yes, because she wished me, and be- 
cause I knew I was safe. Mr. Beach was a very 
knowing man. My mistress would back a tip he 
gave her at twenty-five to one. I have known her 
back it at fifty to> one. She would do this sometimes 
before the weights appeared. Then her father would 
say, ‘ Aggie ’ (that is what he called her) — ‘ Aggie, 


60 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


your horse is at ten or twelve to one. I am going to 
hedge part of your money for you.’ As my half-sov- 
ereign was in my mistress’s bet, of course I went with 
her ; and I more often won tlian lost.” 

The Attorney-general. “Without going minutely 
into the technicalities of horse racing and betting, 
may we take it that the principle of the hedging you 
have spoken of is wise, from a gambling point of 
view ?” 

Witness. “Oh yes. By backing a likely horse at 
a long price, as my mistress had the opportunity of 
doing through her father, and by laying against it if 
it comes to a short price, you reduce the chances, of 
losing. That is good hedging.” 

The Attornej^-general. “Can anybody do that?” 

Witness. “ Well, not exactly. Those who are be- 
hind the scenes have the best advantage. As a rule 
the people who back horses are gulls. That is why 
the book-makers make fortunes. They are playing 
at a game they know; nine out of ten who bet with 
them are playing at a game they don’t know. That is 
how it is. I have heard Mr. Beach say, ‘ The devil is 
on our side.’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “Meaning on the side of 
the book-makers ?” 

Witness. “ Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were you fond of betting 
yourself ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


61 


Witness. “ I hated it. I only did what iny mis- 
tress advised me to do, to please her.’’ 

The Attorney - general. To return to the house 
which was partly paid for with the money your mis- 
tress won. Did the prisoner take an active part in 
the selection of the furniture ?” 

Witness. “ He did nothing whatever. Everything 
was done by my mistress, and she was disappointed be- 
cause he would not go with her to the different es- 
tablishments she visited. But in the end she argued 
as she always did when he was in question. He was 
quite right, she said ; she could not expect him to 
trouble himself about such things ; it was a woman’s 
business, and, by leaving everything to her, it showed 
that he believed she had good taste.” 

The Attorney-general. “ When they were settled 
in London what kind of society did they keep ?” 

Witness. “At first the same as used to come to 
Mr. Beach’s house. Mr. Beach brought them, but 
Mr. Layton was rude and uncivil to them, and after 
a time they stopped away. I must say, if lie was rude 
and uncivil to them, they were quite as rude and un- 
civil to him, and if he had met them with the temper 
they displayed, nothing could have prevented the oc- 
currence of disgraceful scenes. He behaved to them 
in exactly the same way he behaved to my mistress 
when they disagreed. He left the house, and did 
not return till they were all gone.” 


62 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attoniey-general. Were they in the habit of 
coining to the houee without receiving an invitation 
from its master 

Witness. “ I believe so. My mistress would say, 
‘ Papa is going to bring three or four friends to din- 
ner.’ He would look at her and say nothing; and 
when the dinner was served Mr. Layton would be ab- 
sent. Mr. Beach would then take the head of the 
table, and I have heard him, when he was filled with 
champagne — he scarcely ever drank anything else 
but champagne and whiskey — speak very angrily 
about ‘ the stuck-up pride of his fine gentleman son- 
in-law.’ The other guests were not behindhand in 
abusing him.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘^Although they were eat- 
ing at his table and drinking his wine?” 

Witness. “Yes. At other times in the evening, 
when Mr. Layton was at home with my mistress, Mr. 
Beach would make his appearance unexpectedly with 
his friends; but Mr. Layton would never remain in 
their company. It seemed to me that Mr. Beach did 
these things to vex Mr. Layton, and that it was a kind 
of battle between them as to who should be master.” 

The Attorney - general. “A battle, however, in 
which the prisoner did not take any violent part?” 

Witness. “ But it ended in his being left the mas- 
ter of the field.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Explain.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


63 


Witness. “ After twelve months or so Mr. Beach’s 
friends ceased entirely to come to the house. Then, 
when Mr. Beach came, he came alone.^’ 

The Attorney - general. “On those occasions did 
the prisoner remain at home ?” 

Witness. “Yes, whenever Mr. Beach was alone 
Mr. Layton remained in.” 

The Attorney -general. “How did they pass the 
time 

Witness. “ Playing billiards generally.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Now, in all the questions 
I have asked and you have answered, there are two 
subjects upoiLwhich no definite information has been 
forth-coming. Give your best attention to them. Are 
you aware that before or at the time of the prisoner’s 
engagement with your mistress he had been or was 
engaged to another lady? Take time. You have 
said that you were in the confidence of your mistress, 
and that she used to speak freely to you. At any 
period during these communications did she refer to 
another engagement?” 

Witness. “ It was. in this way, and I can’t answer 
the question in any other.” 

The Attorney - general. “Answer it as best you 
can.” 

Witness. “ At one time my mistress said, ‘ I won- 
der if Mr. Layton, before he saw me, was ever in 
love?’ That was the way it was first introduced. 


64 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


I did not know how to answer her without running 
the risk of hurting her feelings, but she pressed me, 
and I was forced to say I thought it very unlikely 
that a gentleman as good-looking as he was should 
not have had his fancies. She pressed me further 
until I said there were very few men of his age who 
had not been in love. She appeared distressed at 
this, but soon brightened up, and said, ‘What is that 
to me so long as he is mine?’ But it weighed upon 
her mind, as was proved by her telling me at another 
time that she had asked Mr. Layton whether he had 
ever been in love, and that lie would not give her 
any satisfaction — which, to my mind, was quite as 
good as his confessing that he had been. These 
conversations between my mistress and me took place 
in the early days, and for some time after her mar- 
riage she did not say anything more about it. But 
when she was laid on a sick-bed — I mean within a 
few months of her being murdered — ” 

The Attorney -general. “Do not say that. It is 
for the juiy to decide. Say within a few months of 
her death.” 

Witness. “ Well, within a few months of her 
death she told me at least half a dozen times that 
she had discovered he had been in love with another 
lady, and tliat she believed he was so when he mar- 
ried her. She said it was wicked and abominable, 
and that if she saw ‘the creature ’ she would kill her.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


65 


The Attorney-general. ‘^Supposing this to be true, 
your mistress never discovered who this other lady 
wasT 

Witness. Never to my knowledge.” 

The Attorney -general. “As to your mistress’s at- 
tachment to her husband, did it ever, in your knowl- 
edge, grow weaker ?” 

Witness. “I don’t exactly know how to describe 
it. She loved and hated him all at once. She was 
torn to pieces with love and jealousy.” 

The Attorney -general. “Is that all you can tell 
us upon this subject ?” 

Witness. “That is all.” 

The Attorney-general. “ I come now to the second 
subject. It is concerning the prisoner’s family. You 
have informed us that not one was present at the 
wedding, and that not one recognized the union by 
sending a wedding present. Now, are you aware 
whether he had parents, or brothers or sisters ?” 

Witness. “All that I heard was that he had a fa- 
ther living. But I did not hear that till more than 
a year after the marriage.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Who told you then ?” 

Witness. “My mistress. Although she confided 
nearly everything to me, she kept this to herself for 
a long time.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did not her father, Mr. 
Beach, speak about it?” 

5 


66 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. I never heard him ; I had very little to 
do with him. I had understood, at the time of the 
marriage, that Mr. Layton’s father was abroad, but 
I had reason to believe afterwards that this was not 
so — that he was in England.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did the prisoner ever 
speak of it ?” 

Witness. “I never heard him.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did the prisoner’s father 
never come to the house ?” 

Witness. “ Never.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Do you know whether he 
is alive at the present time?” 

Witness. “ I heard that he was dead. My mistress 
said so.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did the prisoner go into 
mourning ?” 

Witness. “ He wore crape upon his hat for several 
weeks.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Now, concentrate your 
attention upon the day and the night of the 26th 
of March. I wish you to narrate, concisely, all that 
passed, within your own knowledge, concerning the 
prisoner and his wife from the morning of the 25th 
of March until the morning of the 26th.” 

Witness. “At ten o’clock in the morning of the 
25th my mistress’s bell rang, and I went to her 
room. My instructions were, never to enter her 


THE TBIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


67 


room in the morning until she rang for me. There 
were tsro bell-ropes, one on each side of the bed, so 
that on whichever side she was lying one of them 
was within reach of her hand.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Stop a moment. Did the 
prisoner and his wife occupy one room ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney - general. “For how long had this 
been the case ?” 

Witness. “For a good many months. Ever since 
things began to get worse between them.” 

The Attorney -general. “Proceed. You heard 
your mistress’s bell ring, and you entered her room 
at ten o’clock.” 

Witness. “ She said that she had passed a very bad 
night, that she had had dreadful dreams, and that 
she was afraid something terrible was going to hap- 
pen to her. She asked me if her husband was up, 
and I told her that he had just entered the break- 
fast-room, that I had met him on the stairs, and that 
he inquired whether she were awake, as he wished to 
speak to her before he went out. My mistress said 
that she also wished to speak to him, and she asked 
me if I knew where he was going. Of course I did 
not know, and I told her so. She often asked me 
questions which she must have known very well 
were not possible for me to answer. I washed her, 
and tidied up the room, and then she desired me to 


68 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


go and tell my master to come to her. I knocked 
at the door of the breakfast-room three or four times, 
and receiving no answer, I opened it. My master 
was sitting at the table, and he started up when I 
entered, just as if I had aroused him from a dream. 
His face was very pale, and he held a letter in his 
hand. I noticed that he had not touched the break- 
fast. I gave him my mistress’s message. He nodded, 
and went to her room at once. The moment he en- 
tered my poor mistress began to talk, but he stopped 
her and ordered me out. ^Keep in the next room,’ 
my mistress said to me — ^ I may want you.’ I went 
into the next room, and remained there quite half an 
hour, until my mistress’s bell rang again. My mas- 
ter rushed past me as I opened the door, and I saw 
that my mistress was dreadfully agitated. She was 
sitting up in bed, and — ” 

The Attorney-general. ^^Stop! While you were 
in the adjoining room did you hear anything?” 

Witness. ^^Tsot distinctly.” 

The Attorney-general. Do you mean by that that 
you could not distinguish the words that were spo- 
ken by your master and mistress ?” 

Witness. I could not distinguish the words. I 
could only hear their voices when they spoke loudly.” 

Tlie Attorney-general. “ Did they speak loudly on 
this occasion ?” 

Witness. “ Very loudly.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON, 


The Attorney-geueral. “ In merriment 

Witness. “ Quite the contrary. They were quar- 
relling.” 

The Attorney-general. That is your understand- 
ing of their voices ?” 

Witness. ‘‘I could not be mistaken. Nearly the 
whole of the time their voices were raised to a high 
pitch.” 

The Attorney-general. Which of the two voices 
made the stronger impression upon you ?” 

Witness. ‘‘ My master’s. I am certain he was 
tlireatening her, as he had done many times during 
the last few months.” 

The Attorney-general. That is an improper re- 
mark for you to make. Confine yourself strictly to 
the matter in hand, and to the time you are giving 
evidence upon. When you entered your mistress’s 
room she was sitting up in bed, dreadfully agitated, 
and your master rushed past you ?” 

Witness. Yes, and she called out after him, ^ Nev- 
er, while I am alive ! You wish I were dead, don’t 
you, so that you may be free to marry again ? But 
I sha’n’t die yet, unless you kill me I” 

The Attorney-general. You are positive she made 
use of these words ?” * 

Witness. Quite positive.” 

The Attorney-general. ^^Did the prisoner make 
any reply ?” 


70 


THE NINE OP HEARTS. 


Witness. None ; and his silence appeared to in- 
furiate my mistress. She cried out after him, ^ You 
are a villain ! you are a villain !’ ” 

The Attorney-general. “Did you see the prisoner 
again during the morning V' 

Witness. “No. In a few minutes I heard the 
street door open and close, and my mistress told me 
to run and see whether it was her husband going out. 
I went to the front-room window, and saw him enter 
the carriage and drive away. I returned to my mis- 
tress and informed her of it. She was in a furious 
state, and if she had had the strength she would 
have dressed herself and followed him; but she was 
too weak, unassisted, to get out of bed.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Upon that point you are 
also positive 

Witness. “ Quite positive.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did your mistress make 
you acquainted with the cause of the quarrel between 
her and the prisoner ?” 

Witness. “She told me a good deal. She said 
that when she married him it was the worst day’s 
work she had ever done, and that he had deceived 
her from first to last. All he wanted was for her to 
die ; but although he had treated her so vilely, she 
had him in her power.” 

The" Attorney-general. “What did she mean by 
that? Did she explain ?” 


tHE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


71 


Witness. Not clearly. She spoke vaguely about 
papers and acceptances for money which she had, 
and which he wanted to get hold of. ‘He should 
have them, every one,’ she said, ‘and do whatever he 
liked, if he would be true to me. But he is false, he 
is false, and I will be revenged upon him !’ ” 

The Attorney -general. “Did you acquire this 
knowledge all at one time ?” 

Witness. “No. My mistress spoke at odd times 
during the day, when I went in and out of her room.” 

The Attorney-general. “Nothing else said?” 

Witness. “ Nothing that I can remember.” 

The Attorney-general. “Did the prisoner return 
to the house during the day ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you leave the house 
during the day ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Or night ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney-general. “You remained in attend- 
ance upon your mistress ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney -general. “Did she make any in- 
quiries about her husband ?” 

Witness. “Oh yes. In the afternoon and evening 
she asked me a dozen times at least whether he had 
come home.” 


72 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney - general. ^‘At what time on the 
night of this day did you cease attendance upon your 
mistress 

Witness. “At nine o’clock. She told me I need 
not come into the room again unless she rang.” 

The Attorney-general. “ What then did you do ?” 

Witness. “I went to my own room to^ do some 
sewing.” 

The Attorney-general. “ When you left your iniB- 
tress’s room was there a table by her side ?” 

Witness. “Yes; it was always there.” 

The Attorney-general. “ There were certain things 
upon it ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ What things ?” 

Witness. “A decanter of water, a tumbler, and a 
bottle of lozenges.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was there a label on this 
bottle?” 

Witness. “Yes; it was labelled ^poison.’ ” 

The Attorney -general. “Were those the sleep- 
ing-lozenges your mistress was in the habit of 
taking ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attornej^-general. “ What was their color ?” 

Witness. “White.” 

The Attorney -general. “How many of the loz- 
enges were in the bottle ?” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. ^ 

Witness. I am not sure. Ten or a dozen, I should 
say.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Being labelled poison, it 
could not be mistaken that they were dangerous to 
life?” 

Witness. “There could be no mistake. My mis- 
tress had told me that if a person took three or four 
of them at once he would go to sleep and never wake 
again.” 

The Attorney -general. “Was it considered safe to 
leave such dangerous narcotics within her reach ?” 

Witness. “She was a very prudent woman. She 
was fond of life ; she dreaded the idea of death.” 

The Attorney-general. “Were there any other ar- 
ticles on the table ?” 

Witness. “Pen, ink, and paper, and a book.” 

The Attorney-general. “At what time did you go 
to bed?” 

Witness. “ I can’t be quite exact as to the time, 
but it was about twelve o’clock.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Where was your bedroom 
situated ?” 

Witness. “ On the second floor.” 

The Attorney-general. “And your mistress’s?” 

Witness. “On the flrst floor.” 

The Attorney-general. “ By going out of your bed- 
room door into the passage and leaning over the bal- 
ustrade, could you see down to the ground-floor ?” 


74 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Witness. “ Yes, pretty clearly. It was a straight 
view.’’ 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘ Ton went to bed, you say, 
at about twelve o’clock. Before you retired had your 
master returned home ?” 

Witness. Yes. I was undressing when I heard 
the street door open and close. Then I heard a car- 
riage drive away. I stepped out of my room softly 
and looked over the balustrade to make sure that it 
was my master. At the moment I looked down I 
saw him turning off the gas in the hall.” 

The Attorney - general. ^^And you saw nothing 
more ?” 

Witness. ^^No.” 

The Attorney - general. ‘‘ And heard nothing 
more ?” 

Witness. ‘‘ Yes, I heard something. I remained 
in the passage on the second floor, bending over the 
balustrade, and it seemed to me to be a very long 
time before my master made any movement. I should 
say flve or six minutes passed before I heard him, 
very, very softly, ascend the stairs to the flrst floor. 
Perhaps I was fanciful, through being alone so long 
in my own room ; but the silence in the house, and 
then the sound of my master coining up the stairs 
much more quietly than was usual with him, made 
me nervous, I don’t know why. I fancied all sorts 
of things.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


75 


The Attorney-general. “ Never mind your fancies. 
Did you hear any other footsteps besides those of your 
master ?” 

Witness. “ I am not sure. I can’t say. It never 
entered my mind that anybody could be with him, 
and yet I could not help fancying things. To speak 
the truth, I was so upset that I went into my own 
room and locked the door. I listened with my ear 
at the bedroom door, and I heard the handle of my 
mistress’s room being turned.” 

The Attorney-general. “ And then ?” 

Witness. “ I was already partially undressed, and I 
went to bed.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘ Did you sleep soundly ?” 

Witness. “ No. I woke up suddenly with the idea 
that the street door had been opened and closed 
again. I lay in bed, frightened, but hearing nothing 
more, presently fell asleep again.” 

The Attorney-general. “ There were no cries, no 
voices loudly raised ?” 

Witness. “ I heard none.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you sleep soundly af- 
ter that ?” 

Witness. ‘‘No. I was dozing off and waking up 
the whole of the night — a hundred times, it'seemed to 
me. How I have reproached myself since that when 
I saw my master put out the gas in the hall I did 
not have the courage to go down to him !” 


76 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The Attorney-general. “ At what time in the morn- 
ing did you usually rise ?” 

Witness. ^*At half-past seven, unless my mistress 
required me earlier.” 

The Attorney-general. Was that the hour at which 
you rose on the morning of the 26 th of March ?” 

Witness. ‘^No; I rose much earlier — at six or a 
quarter past six ; I can’t say exactly to a minute, be- 
cause I did not look at my watch.” 

The Attorney-general. Then, after dressing, did 
you go down-stairs ?” 

Witness. Yes, with a candle in my hand It was 
dark.” 

The Attorney-general. Any sound in the house?” 

Witness. ‘^None.” 

The Attorney-general. ‘‘Did you listen at your 
mistress’s bedroom door ?” 

Witness. “ I stood there for a moment, but I heard 
nothing.” 

The Attorney-general. “After that, what did you 
do ?” 

Witness. “ I went down to the hall.” 

The Attorney-general. “ To the street door ?” 

AVitness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ On which side of the hall 
was the coat- rack ?” 

Witness. “ On the left from the house, on the right 
from the street.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


77 


The Attorney-general. ‘‘Did you look at it?’^ 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “What did you observe?” 

Witness. “ That my master’s ulster was hanging 
up in its usual place.” 

The Attorney-general. “You are positive that it 
was in its usual place ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Would you recognize the 
ulster again ?” 

Witness. “ Most certainly ; it is a coat of a very 
peculiar pattern.” 

The Attorney-general. “Is this it?” (Ulster pro- 
duced.) 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney -general. “Was the prisoner’s hat 
hanging in its usual place ?” 

Witness. “ No, it was not there.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Did you look at the street 
door?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney - general. “ Did you observe any- 
thing ?” 

Witness. “Yes, something surprising.” 

The Attorney-general. “ What ?” 

Witness. “ That the chain was not up, and that it 
was not locked, as was always done by my master 
himself when he returned home late. On other oc- 


78 


THE NINE OF HEAKTS. 


easions it was done by a servant. Then, I thought, 
it could have been no fancy of mine that I heard the 
street door open and shut in the middle of tlie night.” 

The Attorney -general. Proceed with an account 

of your movements after the discovery.” 

Witness. was alarmed, and I considered for a 
little while what I ought to do. Then it suddenly 
occurred to me that the door of the bedroom my 
master occupied was not quite closed when I had 
passed it on my way down-stairs. I went up quietly 
to convince myself, and I saw it was not shut. I 
touched it with my hand very gently and timidly, 
and it swung open. Thinking it my duty to acquaint 
my master with the circumstance of the street door 
chain not being up, I ventured to step into the bed- 
room and to call, ‘ Sir !’ I held the candle above my 
head, and to my astonishment saw that there was no 
one in the room, and that the bed had not been occu- 
pied during the night. I went boldly into the room 
and convinced myself. No one was there, no one had 
been there. The bed was just as it had been made 
on the previous day. Now really alarmed, I hurried 
to my mistress’s bedroom, and knocked at her door. 
There was no answer. I knocked again and again, and 
still there was no answer. I opened the door and en- 
tered. My mistress was lying quite still in bed. I 
stepped quietly to her side and bent over. My heart 
almost stopped beating as 1 looked at her face, there 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


79 


was something so awful in it. ‘ Madam ! madam !’ I 
cried, softly, and I ventured to push her by the shoulder. 
She made no movement; she did not speak. I cried 
to her again, and pushed her again, and then a suspi- 
cion of the horrible truth flashed upon me. I raised 
her in my arms, and she fell back upon the bed. I 
scarcely know what happened after that. I began to 
scream, and I think I became hysterical. The next 
thing I remember was the servants rushing into the 
room and me pointing to the dead body of my mis- 
tress.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Do you remember saying 
anything to the effect that your master had murdered 
her?” 

Witness. “I should not like to swear to it; but it 
may JiRve been in ray mind because of the cruel life 
they had led together, and because of what had passed 
between them on the previous morning.” 

The Attorney-general. “After a time you became 
calmer and more collected ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Had one of the servants 
gone for a policeman ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Shortly afterwards a de- 
tective oflScer, Lumley Rich, entered the room ?” 

AVitness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “What was his first ques- 


80 


THE ISriNE OF HEARTS. 


tion when he had convinced himself that your mis- 
tress was dead 

Witness. ‘^He asked if anything in the room had 
been touched or disturbed, and I said, ^No, nothing 
had been touched or disturbed.’ ” 

The Attorney -general. “In consequence of the 
officer’s question upon this point, was your attention 
directed to the table by the bedside 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “Was everything upon the 
table as you had left it at nine o’clock on the night 
before, when you ceased attendance upon your mis- 
tress ?” 

Witness. “ The pen, ink, and paper were there. The 
decanter was there, with very little water in it, and I 
was horror-struck to see that the bottle of sleeping- 
lozenges was quite empty. I made a remark to that 
effect to the detective. Turning to the mantle-shelf, 
I saw upon it the tumbler which, when I left my 
mistress’s room the night before, had been on the 
table by her side.” 

The Attorney-general. “ You say that during the 
day of the 25th of March your mistress spoke vague- 
ly about papers and acceptances for money which 
she held, and of which the prisoner desired to obtain 
possession. Do you know anything further concern- 
ing those papers and acceptances ?” 

Witness. “Nothing.” 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


81 


The Attorney-general. “ Do you know if any were 
found after your mistress’s death ?” 

Witness. “ I do not know.” 

The Attorney-general. “You saw your master when 
he entered the house at seven o’clock in the morn- 
ing?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

The Attorney-general. “ Was he wearing an over- 
coat on that occasion ?” 

Witness. “No.” 

The Attorney -general. “What was his appear- 
ance ?” 

Witness. “Very haggard; as though he had had 
no sleep — as though he had passed a dreadful night.” 

The Attorney-general. “ That will do.” 

(In accordance with tlie plan of defence which the 
prisoner seemed to have laid down for himself, his 
cross-examination of this witness was very brief.) 

Prisoner. “You say that when 3^011 were in the 
room adjoining my wife’s bedroom, during my inter- 
view with her on the morning of the 25 th of March, 
you heard our voices raised to a high pitch, and that 
of the two voices mine made the stronger impression 
upon you?” 

Witness. “Yes, I did say so.” 

Prisoner. “You mean, of course, by that, that I 
was speaking loudly and violently ?” 

Witness. “Yes, T do mean it.” 

6 


82 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Prisoner. Do you adhere to that statement 

Witness. Yes, I adhere to it.” 

Prisoner. ^^And to your conviction that I was 
threatening my wife ?” 

Witness. ‘^Yes.” 

Prisoner. “As I had threatened her many times 
before 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “You have heard me threaten her many 
times during the last few months ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “ In as loud and violent a tone as you 
say I used on this occasion ?” 

Witness. “ No, not so loudly and violently as on 
this occasion ; but that did not make it less dreadful.” 

Mr. Justice Fenmore. “ We do not want your opin- 
ions. Confine yourself to the statement of facts.” 

Prisoner. “Are you aware that my life is at 
stake ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “And that the evidence you have given 
is almost, if not quite, fatal against me ?” 

Witness. “I do not know anything about that. I 
have said only what is true.” 

Prisoner. “ Is it not possible that, having a preju- 
dice against me, you may have allowed your imagi- 
nation to warp your reason ?” 

Witness. “ If by that you mean that I am invent- 


THE TKIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


83 


ing things against yon, it is not true. I have only 
told what I heard.” 

Prisoner. “And you heard my wife, when I left 
the room, call after me the words you have already 
given in evidence, to the effect that she believed I 
wished her dead, but that she would not die yet, un- 
less I killed her 

Witness. “ 1 heard her say so.” 

Prisoner. “ And that she called after me that I 
was a villain ?” 

Witness. “ I heard her say so.” 

Prisoner. “In the description you have given of 
your movements on the night of this fatal day, you 
say that, upon hearing the street door open and close, 
you came out of your bedroom, and leaning over the 
balustrade, looked down into the hall?” 

Witness. “Yes, that is true.” 

Prisoner. “And tliat you saw me putting out the 
gas in the hall ?” 

Witness. “Yes.” 

Prisoner. “You are certain it was I?” 

Witness. “Yes. You had your ulster on, and .as 
you had to stand on tiptoe to put out the gas, your 
face was raised to the light, and I saw it plainly.” 

Prisoner. “ You saw my face plainly ?” 

Witness. “ As plainly as I see it now.” 

Prisoner (with a movement of impatience). “I 
have no further questions to ask you.” 

The Court then adjourned. 


84 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


VI. 

PESCRIPTION OF THE LAST DAy’s PROCEEDINGS — EX- 
TRACTED FROM A DAILY PAPER. 

^‘The trial of Edward Layton for the murder of 
his wife came to a singular and unsatisfactory ter- 
mination late last night. That the public interest 
in the case had reached an almost unprecedented 
height w^as proved by the large number of persons 
who were unable to obtain admission to the court. 

On the pi-evious evening the evidence for the 
prosecution had closed, and there was a painful and 
eager expectancy in the minds of all present as to 
the line of defence which the prisoner intended to 
adopt. This line of defence — if, indeed, it can be 
called a defence — was as surprising as it was brief. 

, “The prisoner, addressing the judge and tlie jury, 
intimated that it was not his intention to call wit- 
nesses on his behalf. Most of the witnesses for the 
prosecution, he said, had given their evidence fairly, 
and if they had cominitted themselves to misstate- 
ments and disci’epancies, it was more because they 
were either misled or mistaken — in tlie case of one 
Avitness, Ida Wliite, because slie was strangely preju- 
diced against him — than that they had a desire to 
make the case against him even blacker than it was. 
It had happened before, and would doubtless happen 


THE TRTAi/ OF EDWARD LAYTON. 85 

again, that a man found himself thrust into such an 
unhappy position as he himself stood through no 
fault of his own, and that he was unable to say or 
do anything to prove his innocence. Sometimes it 
was with such a man a matter of honor, sometimes 
a matter of conscience. In his own case it sprung 
from both his honor and his conscience that his 
lips were sealed, and the utmost he could say for 
liirnself was that he was an innocent man, with so 
dark an array of evidence against him as to almost 
incontestably prove him to be guilty. All that he 
could do was to declai’e most solemnly that the ac- 
cusation upon which he was being tried was false, 
and that he stood before them as unstained by crime 
as they were themselves. What could be said truly 
in his favor was that his character, and to some 
extent his blameless life, were a refutation of the 
charge. Evidence of character was generally called 
in mitigation of impending punishment. He did not 
intend to call such evidence, because, by so doing, 
it would be a half -ad mission that he stood there a 
guilty instead of an innocent man. He knew per- 
fectly well how lame and impotent these weak words 
must sound in the ears of those wlio were sitting in 
judgment upon him ; but this he could not help. It 
was but part of the fat^l web in which he was en- 
tangled. That he and his wife had lived unhappily to- 
gether was not to be disputed ; but even in this most 


86 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


serious crisis of his life he denied fhe right arrogated 
by the legal profession to rip open a man’s private 
affairs and expose to the vulgar gaze what he desired 
should be hidden from it. The last thing he would 
do, even if he were in ten times the peril in which 
he then stood, was to drag other pei'sons into the 
case, and to allow them to be blackened and vilified 
as he had been. ^ I can scarcely doubt,’ said the 
prisoner, ^ what your verdict will be. Were I in 
your place, I should most likely decide as you will 
decide ; but none the less will it be a solemn fact 
that though you are legally right, you are morally 
wrong. I must be content to let the case rest as it 
has been presented to you, and to abide the issue, 
though it may cost me my life.’ 

Never in a criminal court, in the case of a man 
arraigned upon so grave a charge, has there been 
heard a defence so weak and strange ; but it is nev- 
ertheless a fact that the prisoner’s earnest and, to all 
appearance, ingenuous manner produced a deep im- 
pression upon all who heard him ; and when he 
ceased speaking there was, in the murmurs of aston- 
ishment that followed, an unmistakable note of sym- 
pathy. 

After a slight pause the attorney - general rose 
to sum up the case against the prisoner, and his in- 
cisive judicial utterances soon dispelled the impres- 
sion which the prisoner’s earnestness had produced. 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


87 


He said that in the circumstances of the case his 
speech would be briefer than it otherwise would have 
been. He had a duty to perform, and lie w^ould per- 
form it, without, he hoped, any undue severity or 
harshness. Unhappily the evidence was only too 
clear against the prisoner, and unhappily the pris- 
oner had strengthened tlie case against himself. This 
was not a matter of sentiment; it was a matter of 
justice, and justice must be done. With slight limi- 
tations, around which the prisoner threw a veil of 
silence, contenting himself to cast suspicion upon 
them by some kind of mysterious implication which 
no person could understand, and not venturing to 
give them a distinct and indignant denial — with 
slight limitations, then, the prisoner had admitted the 
truthfulness of the evidence brought against him. 
As the prisoner had not directly referred to these 
doubtful points in the evidence, he would himself do 
SO, and endeavor to clear away any latent doubt — if 
such existed — in the minds of the jury. First, with 
respect to the ulster. The prisoner did not deny that 
he wore this ulster on the whole of the day his coach- 
man, James Moorhouse, was driving him ‘to various 
places, and it was only upon his arrival home at mid- 
night that he endeavored to shake the coachman’s 
evidence as to wliether, when he entered the carriage, 
upon leaving Pre vest’s Restaurant, and upon his issu- 
ing from the carriage when th^ coachman drew up 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


at liis house, he still had this ulster on. What his 
motive was in endeavoring to shake the coachman’s 
testimony upon this point it was impossible to say. 
He (the learned counsel) had most carefully consid- 
ered the matter, and the only conclusion he could ar- 
rive at was that the prisoner was anxious to instil a 
doubt into the minds of the jury, that it was not he 
w^ho left the restaurant at ten minutes to twelve and 
entered his carriage, and that it was not he who 
alighted from the carriage and opened his street 
door. But supposing, for instance, that this argu- 
ment had a foundation in fact, was it not easy for 
the prisoner to prove what he had done \vith himself 
between ten minutes to twelve on the night of the 
25th of March and seven o’clock on the morning of 
the 26th? Surely some person or pei'sons must have 
seen him, and had he produced those persons there 
would have been a reasonable alibi set up, which it 
would be the duty of every one engaged in this case 
seriously to consider. Indeed, he would go so far as 
to say that, admitting such evidence to be brought 
forward and established, there could not be found a 
jury who would convict the prisoner of the charge 
brought against him. It would then have been proved 
that the prisoner had not seen his wife from eleven 
o’clock on the morning of the 25th of March until sev- 
en o’clock on the morning of the 26th; and as it was 
during the night of those days that the unhappy lady 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


89 


met her death, it would have been impossible to bring 
the prisoner in guilty. But, easy as this evidence 
must have been to produce, there is not only no at- 
tempt to produce it, but in his lamentably impotent 
speech the prisoner does not even refer to it. In his 
mind, then, and in the minds of all reasonable men, 
there could not be a doubt that this was the case of 
one who, in despair, was catching at a straw to save 
himself. The learned counsel touched briefly but 
incisively upon every point in the evidence concern- 
ing which the prisoner had maintained silence, and 
had made no endeavor to confute. For instance, 
there was the lady whom he had met in Bloomsbury 
Square, whom he took to Prevost’s Restaurant, whom 
he regaled with a supper which neither he nor she 
touched — a distinct proof that they were otherwise 
momentously occupied. The evidence with respect to 
this lady is irrefragable. Slie w^as no shadow, no myth, 
no creation of the imagination ; she was a veritable 
being of flesh and blood. All the efforts of the pros- 
ecution had failed to trace her, and the just deduc- 
tion was that she was somewhere in hiding, afraid to 
come forward lest she should be incriminated and 
placed side by side with the prisoner in the dock. 
The prisoner did not deny her existence, nor that she 
and he were for several hours in company with each 
other. Were he innocent, what possible doubt could 
exist that he would bring her forward to establish his 


90 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


innocence? * Were both innocent, would not she of 
her own accord step forward to prove it ? The pris- 
oner, in his address, made certain allusions to honor 
and conscience, by which he would make it appear 
that he was guided by his honor and his conscience 
in the singular method of his defence; and it may 
be that there existed in him some mistaken sense of 
chivalry which induced him to do all in his power to 
screen the partner in his crime. It would have been 
better for him had he brought his honor and his con- 
science to bear in the unhappy engagement into 
which he entered with the unfortunate lady who af- 
terwards became his wife; but it had been amply 
proved that tlie marriage was not, on his side at least, 
a marriage of affection. Distinctly he married her 
for her money, and distinctly he would be a great 
gainer by her death. Thus, then, there existed a 
motive, and not a novel one — for the tragedy has 
been played many times in the history of crime — for 
his getting rid of her. He (the counsel for the prose- 
cution) did not wish to press hardly upon the pris- 
oner, who was a man of culture and education, and 
must feel keenly the position in which he stood, 
whatever might be his outward demeanor. But it 
devolved upon him to impress upon the jury not to 
allow any false sentiment to cause them to swerve 
from the straight path of duty. They must decide 
by the evidence which had been presented to them. 


THE TRIAL OF EDWARD LAYTON. 


91 


and it was with a feeling the reverse of satisfactory 
that he pointed out to them that this evidence could 
lead to but one result. 

“The summing up of the learned judge (which, 
with the attorney - general’s speech, will be found 
fully reported in other columns) was a masterly 
analysis of the evidence which had been adduced. 
He impressed upon the jury the necessity of calm 
deliberation, and of absolute conviction before they 
pronounced their verdict. Circumstantial evidence 
was, of all evidence, the most perplexing and danger- 
ous. It had, in some rare instances, erred ; but these 
exceptions were, happily, few and far between. It 
had, on the other liand, led to the detection of great 
criminals, and without its aid many heinous aggres- 
sors against the law would slip through the hands of 
justice. He dismissed the jury to their duty, and he 
prayed that wisdom might attend their deliberations. 

“At half-past three o’clock the jury retired, and it 
was the general impression that the case would be 
ended within the hour. The prisoner sat in the dock, 
shading his eyes with his hand. Not once did he 
look up to the court. He seemed to be preparing 
himself for his impending fate. But four o’clock, 
five o’clock, six o’clock passed, and the suspense grew 
painful. It was clear that there was not that agree- 
ment between the jury which all in court, including 
even the prisoner, had expected. At twenty minutes 
past six the foreman of the jury entered the court, 


93 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


and informed the judge that there was no chance of 
the jury agreeing upon a verdict. 

‘‘The Judge. ‘Is there any point of law upon 
which you desire information V 

“The Foreman of the Jury. ‘ None, my lord.’ 

“The Judge. ‘Is there any discrepancy in the 
evidence which the jury wdsh cleared V 

“The Foreman of the Jury. ‘ No, my lord. It is 
simply that we cannot agree.’ 

“The learned judge then intimated that, after so 
long and patient a trial, he could not lightly dismiss 
the jury from their duties, and he bade the foreman 
again retire to a further consideration of the case. The 
court, he said, would sit late to receive the verdict. 

“ Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine o’clock passed, 
and then the learned judge sent for the foreman of 
the jury, and inquired whether any progress had been 
made towards an agreement. 

“ The Foreman of the J ury. ‘None, my lord. There 
is no possible chance of the jury agreeing upon a 
verdict.’ 

“ It was remarked that no person in court appeared 
to be more surprised than the prisoner, and when the 
jury were called in and dismissed by the judge from 
their duties, Edward Layton, before he was removed 
from the dock by the jailers, leaned eagerly forward 
to scan their countenances. 

“ Nothing further transpired, and this unexpected 
chapter in the Layton mysteiy was closed.” 


PART THE SECOND. 

THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


At ten o’clock on the night following this exciting 
day, Mr. Bainbridge, Q.C., and his friend, I)r. Dain- 
court, were chatting together in the dining-room of 
the lawyer’s house. They had met by appointment, 
and were now conversing over the strange incidents 
of the Layton trial. 

Its termination,” said Dr. Daincourt, “ is in har- 
mony with the whole of the proceedings. I am 
afraid, when Layton is put again upon his trial, that 
there will be no further disagreement on the part of 
the jury, and that his conviction is certain.” 

“With the evidence as it stands at present,” said 
Mr. Bainbridge, thoughtfully, “ you are right in your 
conclu&ion. But there is here a mystery to be brought 
to light which, discovered, may lead to a different re- 
sult. Almost unfathomable as this mystery now ap- 
pears to be, its unravel ment may, after all, depend 
upon a very slender thread. Fortunately, Layton’s 
second trial cannot take place for a month. Before 
that month expires I hope to be able to lay my hand 


94 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


upon evidence which will prove him innocent of the 
charge.” 

^^To judge from his attitude,” said Dr. Daincourt, 

he is indifferent as to the result.” 

‘‘You are mistaken,” said the lawyer; “it is only 
that he will not owe his release to certain means 
which I believe it to be in his power to disclose. Has 
it not occurred to you that he has been anxious all 
through to keep something in the background?” 

“Yes,” replied Dr. Daincourt, “that has been my 
impression ; but it might be something which would 
more firmly fix his guilt. Is it your intention to fol- 
low up the case ?” 

“To the last link in the chain.” 

“ The chain, if there be one, is safely hidden, and 
I cannot for the life of me see a single link.” 

Mr. Bainbridge, leaning back in his chair, did not 
reply for a few moments, and then he said, 

“ I have two links to commence with. One of 
these is shadowy ; the otlier is certain and tangible.” 
And then, with the air of a man whose thoughts were 
engaged upon an important subject, he exclaimed, 
“ If I could only discover its meaning !” 

“ The meaning of what ?” 

The lawyer took a pack of cards from a drawer 
and selected a card, which he handed to Dr. Dain- 
court. 

“ The Nine of Hearts,” said the doctor. 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


95 


“ The card,” said the law}^er, “ that was found in 
the pocket of Layton’s ulster.” 

“ Is this your tangible link ?” asked Dr. Daincourt, 
turning the card over in his hand. 

“ It is my tangible link,” replied the lawyer. 

Dr. Daincourt shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘ You are 
adding mystery to mystery.” 

“I think not,” said the lawyer. ‘‘You were not 
in the court when the Nine of Hearts was produced.” 
“No.” 

“That and the latch-key of Layton’s street door 
were the only articles found in the pockets of the 
ulster. When the evidence relating to these articles 
was being given, I closely observed Layton’s face. I 
knew, but he did not, that these two articles were all 
that were discovered in the pockets of the incrimi- 
nating coat. When the latch-key was held up he 
smiled faintly ; he was not surprised. But when the 
Nine of Hearts was produced there flashed into his 
eyes a startled look — a look of bewilderment and as- 
tonishment ; indeed, there was something of horror 
in his face. I needed no further sign to make me 
positive that he had no previous knowledge of the 
card, and that it w^as the first time he had seen it.” 

“ Something of horror, you say.” 

“ It was my impression, and I cannot account for 
it. Not ^0 with his bewilderment and astonishment. 
To my mind they are easily explained.” 


96 


THE NINE OF IIEAKTS. 


“ He asked no questions concerning the card re- 
marked Dr. Daincourt 

“ He asked no questions,” said the lawyer, some- 
what irritably, “ concerning a hundred matters upon 
which the witnesses should have been hardly pressed. 
Can you not see that this accentuates my conviction 
that the Nine of Hearts is a link in the chain?” 

“Yes, supposing you had not already arrived at a 
false conclusion with respect to poor Layton’s knowl- 
edge of the possession of the card.” 

“I will stake my life and reputation,” said the 
lawyer, earnestly, “ upon the correctness of my con- 
clusion. I will stake my life and reputation that, 
until that moment, Edward Layton did not know 
that the card was in his pocket.” 

“ Then somebody must have placed it there.” 

“As you say, somebody must have placed it there.” 

“ But in the name of all that is reasonable,” ex- 
claimed Dr. Daincourt, “ what possible connection 
can you trace between a playing-card, whether it be 
the ace of clubs, or the king of spades, or the nine 
of hearts — it matters not which — what possible con- 
nection can you find between any playing-card and 
the awful charge brought against Layton ?” 

“ That,” said the lawyer, drumming upon the table 
with his fingers, “ is what I have to discover. You 
do not know, doctor, upon what slight tlireads the 
most important issues hang.” 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


97 


I think I do,” said Dr. Daincoiirt, with a smile. 

“I do not refer to the general issues of human 
life,” said the lawyer, in explanation ; I refer to le- 
gal matters, especially to criminal cases the solution of 
which rests upon circumstantial evidence. Circum- 
stances the most remote, and apparently absolutely 
worthless and trivial, have been woven by a legal 
mind into a strand strong and firm enough to drag a 
prisoner out of the very jaws of death.” 

“And this Nine of Hearts is one of those slender 
threads ?” said Dr. Daincourt, in a tone of incredulous 
inquiry. 

“ Very likely. You may depend I shall not lose 
sight of it.” 

“ You spoke of two links,” said Dr. Daincourt, 
“and you have shown me that which you believe to 
be a tangible one. What is the link which you say 
is shadowy and less dependable?” 

“I will explain. The jury were discharged, being 
unable to agree upon their verdict. It may leak out 
through the press by-and-by — pretty much every- 
thing does leak out through the press nowadays — 
but it is not known at present to the public how 
many of the jury were for pronouncing the prisoner 
guilty, and how many for pronouncing him inno- 
cent.” 

“ I have heard rumors,” said Dr. Daincourt. 

“I,” said the lawyer, “have positive information. 

7 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Eleven of them declared him guilty, one only held 
out that he was innocent. Arguments, persuasions, 
logical inferences and deductions, the recapitulation 
of the evidence against him — all were of no avail in 
this one juryman’s eyes. He would not be convinced ; 
he would not yield. He had made up his mind that 
the prisoner was innocent, and that he, at least, would 
not be instrumental in sending him from the dock a 
felon.” 

“I can see nothing in that,” said Dr. Daincourt. 

There are,” continued the lawyer, “ in civil and 
criminal records, instances of a like nature, some of 
which have been privately sifted, with strange re- 
sults, after the cases have been finally settled. I rec- 
ollect one case which may bear upon this of Layton’s. 
I do not say it does, but it may. It occurred many 
years ago, and the jury were locked up a barbarous 
length of time without being able to come to an 
agreement. There was no possible doubt, circumstan- 
tially, of the prisoner’s guilt ; the evidence was con- 
clusive enough to convict twenty men. One person, 
however, would not give in, and that person was on 
the jury. The prisoner was tried again, and unhesi- 
tatingly acquitted. During the time that had elapsed 
between the first and second trials additional evidence 
was found which proved the prisoner to be innocent. 
The juryman who held out on the first trial happened 
to have been some years before a friend of the pris- 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


99 


oner, a fact, of course, which was not known when the 
jury were empanelled. After the result of the sec- 
ond trial he publicly declared that he had been guid- 
ed by his feelings and not by the evidence.’^ 

^‘And you think that something of the sort may 
have happened in this case 

“ Had you been on the jury, what would have been 
your verdict 
Guilty.” 

‘‘Had I been on the jury, what would have been 
my verdict? Despite my firm conviction that Lay- 
ton is an innocent man, I should have brought him 
in guilty. It was not my opinion I had to be guided 
by, it was the evidence ; and the evidence in Layton’s 
case, as it was presented to the court and appears in 
the papers, indisputably proclaims him to be a guilty 
man. Again, when the verdict was pronounced I 
watched his face; again I saw there a startled look 
of wonder and astonishment ; to his own mind the 
evidence against him was conclusive. Then it was 
that I observed him for the first time gaze upon the 
jury with some kind of interest and attention. Not 
once during the trial had he looked at them in any 
but a casual way, and I should not be surprised to 
learn that he was ignorant of their names. This is 
most unusual. Ordinarily a prisoner pays great at- 
tention to the jury upon whose verdict his fate hangs. 
He gazes upon them with deepest anxiety, he notes 


100 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


every change in their countenances, is despondent 
when he believes it to be against him, is hopeful when 
he believes it to be in his favor. Not so with Lay- 
ton. When the jury were empanelled, and their 
names called over, he paid not the slightest attention 
to them ; he did not turn his eyes towards them ; he 
might have been both deaf and blind for all the in- 
terest he evinced.” 

Perhaps you are not aware,” said the doctor, 
that he is very short-sighted, and that without his 
glasses it would have been impossible for him to dis- 
tinguish their features.” 

“ I am quite aware of it,” said the lawyer ; but he 
had his glasses hanging round his neck, and it is re- 
markable that not once during the trial did he put 
them to his eyes. I have here,” and the lawyer tap- 
ped his pocket-book, “ a list of the names, social stand- 
ing, and businesses or professions of the jurymen en- 
gaged on this Layton mystery. As regards only one 
of them is my information incomplete. I know their 
ages, whether they are married or single, whether 
they have families, etc. I know something more — 
I know the name of the one man who would not 
subscribe to the verdict of guilty which the other 
eleven, almost without leaving the box, were ready to 
pronounce. Curiously enough, this dissentient is the 
person respecting whom I have not yet complete par- 
ticulars. I am acquainted with his name, but have 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


101 


not been supplied with his address. I shall, however, 
obtain it easily, if I require it.” 

“ What is his name ?” asked Dr. Daincourt. 

“James Eutland,” replied the lawyer. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door, and 
a man-servant made his appearance. 

“ A telegraph lad, sir,” said the servant, “ has 
brought this message, and is waiting to know wheth- 
er it is correct, and whether there is any answer. He 
says he has been to your rooms in the Temple, and 
was directed on here to your private address, the in- 
structions being that the message was to be delivered 
immediately, either at your professional or private 
residence.” 

Mr. Bainbridge opened the telegram and read it. 
It was unusually lengthy, and from the expression of 
his face appeared to cause him great surprise. 

“ Let the lad wait in the hall,” he said to his serv- 
ant, “and you come up the moment I ring.” 

“Yery well, sir,” said the servant, and he left the 
room, closing the door softly behind him. 

“ I have been taking a leaf out of your book,” said 
Dr. Daincourt. “You seem to learn so much from 
observing the faces of people, that I have been rude 
enough to watch your face while you were perusing 
the telegram.” 

“ What have you learned ?” asked the lawyer. 

“ Nothing,” replied Dr. Daincourt, smiling, “ except 


102 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


that it appears almost as long as a letter, and that it 
has caused you surprise.” 

“It has caused me something more than that — it 
has absolutely startled me.” 

“ You must forgive my rudeness. I spoke lightly, 
not seriously. If you have anything particular to at- 
tend to, don’t mind me ; I will go.” 

“No,” said the lawyer, “I want you, and I think 
you will be as startled as I am myself. This is a 
cable message from Pittsburg, America, and, as you 
judged, it is more like a letter than a telegram. See, 
it covers three sides of paper; I will read it to you : 

“ ‘ From Archibald Laing^ Box 1236, P, (9., Pitts- 
burg^ Z7. N., to Mr, Bainbridge^ Q-0,^ London. 

“ ‘ Reports of the result of Edward Layton’s trial 
for the murder of his wife have been cabled here 
and published in the papers. There will, of course, 
be a new trial. If at or before that new trial you 
establish Layton’s innocence, I hold myself account- 
able to you for a fee of twenty-five thousand dollars. 
If you will employ yourself to that end, I have ca- 
bled to Messrs. Morgan & Co., bankers, Threadneedle 
Street, to pay upon your demand the sum of ten 
thousand dollars, five thousand dollars of which are 
your retaining fee, the other five thousand being an 
instalment towards any preliminary expenses you may 
incur. This sum of ten thousand dollars is indepen- 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


103 


dent of the twenty-five thousand mentioned above, 
and of course your own professional bill of costs will 
be paid in addition. Messrs. Morgan & Co. are em- 
powered to advance you any further sums that may 
be necessary for your investigations. Set every en- 
gine afoot to obtain the acquittal of Edward Lay- 
ton; spare no expense. If a million dollars is nec- 
essary, it is at your command. Send to me by every 
mail full and detailed accounts of your movements 
and proceedings; omit nothing, and make your own 
charge for this and for everything else you perform 
in the task I ask you as a favor to undertake. Your 
reply immediately by cable will oblige, and, up to 
one hundred words, is prepaid. I do not wish Ed- 
ward Layton to know that I have requested your 
mediation on his behalf. It is a matter entirely and 
confidentially between you and me. I write to you 
by the outgoing mail. Perhaps you may obtain 
some useful information from a Mr. James Rutland ; 
I cannot furnish you with the gentleman’s address, 
but Edward Layton and he were once friends.’ ” 

Dr. Daincourt drew a deep breath. 

“ Startling indeed,” he said. “ This Archibald 
Laing must be the man of whom we have heard as 
making an immense fortune by speculating at the 
right moment in the silver-mines. If so, he is good 
for millions. Do you know anything of him ?” 


104 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


‘‘ Not personally,” replied the lawyer ; only from 
report and hearsay. He is an Englishman, and must 
be an amazingly shrewd fellow; and that he is in 
earnest is partly proved by this cable, in which no 
words are spared to make his meaning clear.” 

While he was speaking to his friend, the lawyer 
was busily engaged writing upon a blank telegraph 
form, which was enclosed in the envelope delivered 
by the messenger. 

‘‘What will you do in the matter?” asked Dr. 
Daincourt. 

“ Here is my reply,” said the lawyer, and he read 
it aloud : 

“ ‘ From Mr, Bairibridge^ Q. C.y Harley Street,, Lon- 
don,, to Archibald Laing^ Box 1236, P. (9., Pitts- 
burg^ U, S, 

“‘Your cable received. I undertake the com- 
mission, and will use every effort to establish Lay- 
ton’s innocence, in which I firmly believe. There 
is a mystery in the matter, and I will do my best to 
get at the heart of it. I will write to you as you 
desire.’ ” 

He touched the bell and the servant appeared. 

“Give tliis to the telegraph boy,” he said, “and 
pay his cab fare to the telegraph office, in order that 
there shall be no delay.” 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


105 


When the servant had departed, the lawyer rose 
from his chair and paced the room slowly in deep 
thought, and it was during the intervals in his Re- 
flections that the conversation between him and Dr. 
Daincourt was cai’ried on. 

“ Is it not very strange,” said the lawyer, ‘‘ that I 
am advised in this cable message to seek information 
from the one juryman who pronounced Layton inno- 
cent, and whose address I have not obtained 

Yes, it is, indeed,” replied Dr. Daincourt, very 
strange.” 

“ Of course I shall And him ; there will not be 
the least difficulty in that respect. Tell me, doctor. 
It was proved at the trial that Mrs. Layton’s death 
was caused by an overdose of morphia, taken in the 
form of effervescing lozenges. It was established 
that she was occasionally in the habit of taking one 
of these lozenges at night to produce sleep, and her 
maid swore that her mistress never took more than 
one, being aware of the danger of an overdose. The 
usual mode of administering these noxious opiates 
is by placing one in the mouth and allowing it to 
dissolve ; but they will dissolve in water, and the 
medical evidence proved that at least eight or ten of 
the poisonous lozenges must have been administered 
in this way, in one dose, to the unfortunate lady. 
The glass from which the liquid was drunk was 
found, not by her bedside, but on the mantle-shelf, 


106 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


which is at some distance from the bed. It is a nat- 
ural inference, if the unfortunate woman had admin- 
istered the dose to herself, that the glass would have 
been found on the table by her bedside. It was not 
so found, and the maid declares that her mistress 
was too weak to get out of bed and return to it un- 
aided. These facts, if they be facts, circumstantially 
prove that the cause of death lay outside the actions 
of the invalid herself. The maid states that when 
she left her mistress the bottle containing about a 
dozen lozenges was on the table by her mistress’s 
bedside, and also a glass, and a decanter of water ; 
and that when she visited her mistress at between 
six and seven o’clock in the morning there were no 
lozenges left in the bottle, and the glass from which 
they were supposed to be taken, dissolved in water, 
was on the mantle-shelf. Now, in my view, this cir- 
cumstance is in favor of the prisoner.” 

I cannot see that,” observed Dr. Daincourt. 

‘‘ Yet it is very simple,” said the lawyer. “ Let us 
suppose, in illustration, that I am this lady’s husband. 
For reasons into which it is not necessary here to 
enter, I resolve to make away with my wife by ad- 
ministering to her an overdose of these poisonous 
narcotics, and naturally I resolve that her death shall 
be accomplished in such a manner as to avert, to 
some reasonable extent, suspicion from myself. I 
go into her bedroom at midnight. Our relations, as 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


107 


has been proved, are not of the most amiable kind. 
We are not in love with each other — quite the re- 
vei’se — and have been living, from the first day of 
our marriage, an unhappy life. Indeed, my unhappy 
life, in relation to the lady, commenced when I was 
engaged to her. Well, I go into her room at mid- 
night, resolved to bring about her death. She com- 
plains that she cannot sleep, and she asks me to give 
her a morphia lozenge from the bottle. I suggest 
that it may more readily produce sleep if, instead of 
allowing it to dissolve slowly in her mouth, she will 
drink it off at once, dissolved in water. She con- 
sents. I take from the table the bottle, the decanter 
of water, and the glass ; I empty secretly into the 
glass the eight or ten or dozen lozenges which the 
bottle contains ; I pour the water from the decanter 
into the glass, and I tell my wife to drink it off im- 
mediately. She does so, and sinks into slumber, 
overpowered by a sleep from which she will never 
awake. Perhaps she struggles against the effects of 
the terrible dose I have administered to her, but her 
struggles are vain. She lies before me in sure ap- 
proaching death, and both she and I have escaped 
from the life which has been a continual source of 
misery to us. The deed being accomplished, what 
do I, the murderer, do? There are no evidences of 
a struggle; there have been no cries to alarm the 
house; what has been accomplished has been well 


108 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


and skilfully accomplished, and I am the only actual 
living witness against myself. What then, I repeat, 
is my course of action? Before I killed her I re- 
moved the bottle, the glass, and the decanter from 
the table by the bedside. I wish it to be understood 
that she herself, in a fit of delirium, caused her own 
death. This theory would be utterly destroyed if I 
allowed the glass from which the poison was taken 
to be found at some distance from the unfortunate 
lady’s bedside. Yery carefully, therefore, I place not 
only that, but the decanter which contained the 
water, and the bottle which contained the lozenges, 
within reach of her living hand. To omit that pre- 
caution would be suicidal, and, to my mind, absolute- 
ly untenable in rational action under such circum- 
stances. Do you see, now, why the circumstance of 
the glass being found on the mantle-shelf is a proof 
of my innocence ?” 

Yes,” replied Dr. Daincourt, I recognize the 
strength of your theory — unless, indeed, you had in 
your mind the idea that it would be better to throw 
suspicion upon a third person ; say, for the sake of 
argument, upon the maid.” 

That view,” said the lawyer, demolishes itself, 
for what I would naturally do to divert suspicion 
from myself, a third person would naturally do to 
avert suspicion from him or herself.” 

True,” said Dr. Daincourt ; “ you seize vital 


THE CABLE MESSAGE FROM AMERICA. 


109 


points more readily than I. Have you any theory 
about the strange lady who accompanied Layton 
home from Prevost’s Restaurant 

have a theory upon the point,” replied the law- 
yer, which, however, at present is so vague and un- 
satisfactory that it would be folly to disclose it.” 

And the Nine of Hearts,” said Dr. Daincourt, 
you have not mentioned that lately — have you for- 
gotten it ?” 

“ No,” said the lawyer, it is my firm opinion that 
round that Nine of Hearts the whole of the mystery 
revolves.” 


PART THE THIRD. 

THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


« From Mr. Bainhridge^ Q. (7., to Archibald 
Laing^ Esq, 

Dear Sir, — Last night I received your cable 
from Pittsburg, and sent you a message in reply, ac- 
cepting the commission with which you have been 
pleased to intrust me. This morning I called upon 
Messrs. Morgan & Co., Bankers, Threadneedle Street, 
and learned from them that they were prepared to 
advance me the ten thousand dollars of which you 
advised me. I drew upon them for that amount, and 
received from them a notification that they would 
honor my further drafts upon them the moment they 
were drawn. I asked them whether, in the event of 
my desiring to draw say five thousand pounds, I was 
at liberty to do so. They said yes, for even a larger 
amount if I required it. I did not explain to them 
the reason of my asking the question, but I will do so 
to you. It has happened, in difficult cases, that in- 
formation has had to be purchased, and that a bribe 
more or less tempting has had to be held out to some 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. HI 


person or persons to unlock their tongues. I have no 
reason to suppose that anything of the sort will be 
necessary in this case, but I wish to feel myself per- 
fectly free in the matter. I am satisfied with your 
bankers’ replies, and I shall spare neither money nor 
exertion in the endeavor to unravel the mystery 
which surrounds the death of Mrs. Edward Layton. 

^‘It is scarcely possible you can be aware of it, but 
it is nevertheless a fact that, apart from my profes- 
sional position in this matter, I take in it an interest 
which is purely personal, and tliat my sympathies are 
in unison with your own. Were it not that I have 
had some knowledge of Mr. Layton, and that I es- 
teem him, and were it not that I firmly believe in his 
innocence, I should, perhaps, have hesitated to engage 
myself in his case, and you will excuse my saying 
that your liberal views upon the subject of funds 
might have failed to impress me. It is, therefore, a 
matter of congratulation that I enlist myself on Mr. 
Layton’s side as much upon personal as upon profes- 
sional grounds. The time has been too short for 
anything yet to be done, but it will be a satisfaction 
to you to learn that I have a slight clew to work 
upon. It is very slight, very frail, but it may lead to 
something important. Your desire for a full and 
complete recital of my movements shall be complied 
with, and I propose, to this end, and for the purpose 
of coherence and explicitness, to forward the partic- 


112 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


ulars to you from time to time, not in the form 
of letters, but in narrative shape. This mode of 
giving you information will keep me more strictly to 
the subject-matter, and will be the means of avoiding 
digression. After the receipt, therefore, of this letter, 
what I have to say will go forth under numbered 
headings, not in my own writing, but in that of a 
short-hand reporter, whom I shall specially employ. 
I could not myself undertake such a detailed and 
circumstantial account as I understand it is your de- 
sire to obtain. Besides, it will save time, which may 
be of great value in the elucidation of this mystery, 
am, dear sir, faithfully yours, 

‘‘Horace Bainbridge.” 


I. 

What struck me particularly in your cable mes- 
sage was that portion of it in which you made refer- 
ence to a Mr. James Rutland. It happens, singularly 
enough, that this Mr. James Rutland was on the jury, 
and that he was the one juryman who held out in 
Mr. Layton’s favor, and through whose unconquer- 
able determination not to bring him in guilty has 
arisen the necessity for a new trial. Eleven of the 
jury were for a conviction, one only for an acquittal 
— this one, Mr. Rutland. 

The first thing to ascertain was his address, which 
you could not give me. However, we have engines 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 113 


at our hand wherebj such small matters are easily 
arrived at, and on the evening of the day after the 
arrival of your cable message I was put in posses- 
sion of the fact that Mr. Rutland lives in Wimpole 
Street. I drove there immediately, and sent up my 
card. 

“ I have called upon you, Mr. Rutland,” I said, 
“with respect to Mr. Edward Layton’s case, in the 
hope that you may be able to give me some infor- 
mation by which lie may be benefited.” 

Mr. Rutland is a gentleman of about sixty years of 
age. He has a benevolent face, and I judged him, 
and I think judged him correctly, to be a man of a 
kindly nature. Looking upon him, there was no in- 
dication in his appearance of a dogged disposition, 
and I lost sight for a moment of the invincible te- 
nacity with which he had adhered to his opinion 
when he was engaged upon the trial with his fellow- 
jurymen. However, his conduct during this inter- 
view brought it to my mind. 

“ It is a thousand pities,” he said, in response to 
my opening words, “ that Mr. Layton refused to ac- 
cept professional assistance and advice. I was not 
the only one upon the jury who failed to understand 
his reason for so doing.” 

“ It is indeed,” I observed, “ inexplicable, and I am 
in hopes that you may be able to throw some light 
upon it. I have come to you for assistance.” 


114 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


I can give you no information,” was his reply ; 
I cannot assist you.” 

May I speak to you in confidence ?” I asked. 

Yes,” he said, “ although I have nothing to tell. 
To any but a gentleman of position I should refuse to 
enter into conversation upon this lamentable affair; 
and, indeed, it will be useless for us to converse upon it. 
As I have already said, I have nothing to tell you.” 

This iteration of having nothing to say and nothing 
to tell was to me suspicious, not so much from the 
words in which the determination was conveyed as 
from the tone in which they were spoken. It was 
flurried, anxious, uneasy ; a plain indication that Mr. 
James Rutland could say something if he chose. 

Speaking in confidence,” I said, taking no out- 
ward notice of his evident reluctance to assist me, 
I think I am right in my conjecture that you be- 
lieve in Mr. Layton’s innocence.” 

“I decline to say anything upon the matter,” was 
his rejoinder to this remark. 

“ We live in an age of publicity,” I observed, with- 
out irritation ; it is difficult to keep even one’s pri- 
vate affairs to one’s self. What used to be hidden 
from public gaze and knowledge is now exposed and 
freely discussed by strangers. You are doubtless 
aware that it is known that there were eleven of the 
jury who pronounced Mr. Layton guilty, and only one 
who pronounced him innocent.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 115 


‘‘ I was not,” he said, and am not aware that it is 
known.” 

“ It is nevertheless a fact,” I said, and it is also 
known that you, Mr. Kutland, are the juryman who 
held out in Mr. Layton’s favor.” 

“ These matters should not be revealed,” he mut- 
tered. 

“ Perhaps not,” I said, “ but we must go with the 
age in which we live. Mr. Layton’s case has excited 
the greatest interest. The singular methods he adopt- 
ed during so momentous a crisis in his life, and the 
unusual termination of the judicial inquiry, have in- 
tensified that interest, and I have not the slightest 
doubt that there will be a great deal said and written 
upon the subject.” 

“ Which should not be said and written,” muttered 
Mr. Kutland. 

“ Neither have I the slightest doubt,” I continued, 
“ that your name will be freely used, and your mo- 
tives for not waiving your opinion when eleven men 
were against you freely discussed. We are speaking 
here, if you will allow me to say so, as friends of the 
unfortunate man, and I have no hesitation in declar- 
ing to you that I myself believe in his innocence.” 

He interrupted me. 

“Then, if you had been on the jury, you would 
not have yielded to the opinions of eleven, or of eleven 
hundred men ?” 


116 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


He spoke eagerly, and I saw that it would be a 
satisfaction to him to obtain support in his view of 
the case. 

I am not so sure,” I said ; “ our private opin* 
ion of a man when he is placed before his country 
charged with a crime has nothing M^hatever to do 
with the evidence brought against him. Let us sup- 
pose, for instance, that you have been at some time 
or other, under more fortunate circumstances, ac- 
quainted with Mr. Layton.” 

Who asserts that?” he cried, much disturbed. 

No person that I am aware of,” I replied. “ I 
am merely putting a case, and I will prove to you 
presently that I have a reason for doing so. Say, I 
repeat, that under more fortunate circumstances you 
were acquainted with Mr. Layton, and that you had 
grown to esteem him. What has that purely per- 
sonal view to do with your functions as a juryman?” 

“ Mr. Bainbridge,” he said, “ I do not wish to be 
discourteous, but I cannot continue this conversa- 
tion.” 

^^Nay,” I urged, a gentleman’s life and honor are 
at stake, and I am endeavoring to befriend him. I 
am not the only one who is interested in him. There 
are others, thousands of miles away across the seas, 
who are desirous and anxious to make a sacrifice, if 
by that sacrifice they can clear the honor of a friend. 
See, Mr. Rutland, I will place implicit confidence in 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 117 

you. Last night I received a cable from America, 
from Mr. Archibald Laing.” 

“Mr. Archibald Laing !” he cried, taken by sur- 
prise. “ Why, he and Mr. Layton were — ” 

But he suddenly stopped, as though fearful of com- 
mitting himself. 

“ Were once friends,” I said, finishing the sentence 
for him, and, I was certain, finishing it aright. “ Yes, 
I should certainly say so. Bead the cable I received.” 
And I handed it to him. 

At first he seemed as if he were disinclined, but 
he could not master his curiosity, and after a slight 
hesitation he read the message; but he handed it 
back to me without remark. 

“ Mr. Archibald Laing,” I said, “ as I dare say you 
have heard or read, is one of fortune’s favorites. He 
left this country three or four years ago, and settled 
in America — where, I believe, he has taken out let- 
ters of naturalization — and plunged into speculation 
which has made him a millionaire. No further evi- 
dence than his cable message is needed to prove that 
he is a man of vast means. Why does he ask me to 
apply to you for information concerning Mr. Layton 
which I may probably turn to that unhappy gentle- 
man’s advantage?” 

“ I was but slightly acquainted with Mr. Laing,” 
said Mr. Kutland. “ He and I were never friends. 
I repeat once more that I have nothing to tell you.” 


118 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


I recognized then that I was in the presence of a 
man who, whether rightly or wrongly, was not to be 
moved from any decision at which he had arrived, 
and I understood thoroughly the impossible task set 
before eleven jurymen to win him over to their con- 
victions. 

Can I urge nothing,” I said, to induce you to 
speak freely to me 

“ Nothing,” he replied. 

I spent quite another quarter of an hour endeavor- 
ing to prevail upon him, but in the result I left his 
house no wiser than I had entered it, except that I 
was convinced he knew something which he was dog- 
gedly concealing from me. I did not think it was 
anything of very great importance, but it might at 
least be a clew that I could work upon, and I was 
both discouraged and annoyed by his determined at- 
titude. 

On the following morning, having paved the way 
to further access to Mr. Edward Layton, I visited the 
unhappy man in his prison. He was unaffectedly 
glad to see me, and he took the opportunity of ex- 
pressing his cordial thanks for the friendliness 1 had 
evinced towards him. I felt it necessary to be on 
my guard with him, and I did not, thus early, make 
any endeavor to prevail upon him to accept me as 
his counsel in the new trial which awaited him. 
There were one or two points upon which I wished 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 119 

to assure myself, and I approached them gradually 
and cautiously. 

‘^Are you aware,” I said, “of the extent of the 
disagreement among the jury?” 

“ Well,” he replied, “ we hear something even with- 
in these stone walls. I am told that eleven were 
against me and one for me.” 

“ Yes,” I said, “ that is so.” 

“ A bad lookout for me when I am tried again. 
Mr. Bainbridge,” he said, “ it is very kind of you to 
visit me here, and I think you do so with friendly 
intent.” 

“ Indeed,” I said, “ it is with friendly intent.” 

“ Is it of any use,” he then said, “ for me to declare 
to you that I am innocent of the horrible charge 
brought against me ?” 

“ I don’t know,” I said, “ whether it is of any use 
or not, because of the stand you have taken, and 
seem determined to take.” 

“ Yes,” he said, “ upon my next trial I shall defend 
myself, as I did on my last. I will accept no legal 
assistance whatever. Still, as a matter of interest 
and curiosity — looking upon myself as if I were 
somebody else — tell me frankly your own opinion.” 

“Frankly and honestly,” I replied, “ I believe you 
to be an innocent man.” 

“ Thank you,” he said, and I saw the tears rising 
in his eyes. 


120 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Do you happen,” I said, presently, to know the 
name of the juryman who was in your favor?” 

“No,” he replied, “I am quite ignorant of the 
names of the jurymen.” 

“ But they were called over before the trial com- 
menced.” 

“Yes, that is the usual course, I believe, but I did 
not hear their names. Indeed, I paid no heed to 
them. Of what interest would they have been to 
me? Twelve strangers were twelve strangers; one 
was no different from the other.” 

“ They were all strangers to you ?” I asked, assum- 
ing a purposed carelessness of tone. 

“ Yes, every one of them.” 

“ And you to them ?” 

“I suppose so. How could it have been other- 
wise ?” 

“But when they finally came back into court, and 
the foreman of the jury stated that they could not 
agree, you seemed surprised.” 

“ Were you \vatching me?” he asked, suspiciously. 

“Do you not think it natural,” I said, in reply, 
“ that every person’s eyes at that moment should be 
turned upon you ?” 

“Of course,” he said, recovering himself — “quite 
natural. I should have done the same myself had I 
been in a better place than the dock. Well, I was 
surprised ; I fully anticipated a verdict of guilty.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 121 


“ And,” I continued, “ although you may not re- 
member it, you leaned forward and gazed at the jury 
with an appearance of eagerness.” 

“ I remember that I did so,” he said ; it was an 
impulsive movement on my part.” 

Did yon recognize any among them whose face 
was familiar to you ?” 

‘^No; to tell you the truth, I could not distinguish 
their faces, I am so short-sighted.” 

‘‘ But you had your glasses hanging round your 
neck. Why did you not use them ?” 

It amazed me to hear him laugh at this question. 
It was a gentle, kindly laugh, but none the less was 
I astonished at it. 

“You lawyers are so sharp,” he said, “that there is 
scarcely hiding anything from you. Be careful what 
questions you ask me, or I shall be compelled” — and 
here his voice grew sad — “ to beg of you not to come 
again.” 

I held myself well within control, although his 
admonition startled me, for I had it in my mind to 
ask him something concerning the surprise he had 
evinced when the Nine of Hearts was produced from 
the pocket of his ulster ; and I had it also in my mind 
to ask him whether he was acquainted, either directly 
or indirectly, with Mr. James Rutland. His caution 
made me cautious ; his wariness made me wary ; I 
seemed to be pitted against him in a friendly contest 


123 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


in which I was engaged in his interests, and he was 
engaged against them. 

will be careful,”! said; ^^you must not close 
your door against me, although it is, unhappily, a pris- 
on door. I am here truly as a sympathizing friend. 
Look upon me in that light, and not in the light of a 
professional man.” 

^^You comfort me,” he said. “Although I may 
appear to you careless and indifferent, you know well 
enough it is impossible that I can be so; you know 
that I must be tearing my heart out in the terrible 
position in which I have been forced by ruthless cir- 
cumstance. Make no mistake : I am myself greatly 
to blame for what has occurred. It has been forced 
upon me by my sense of honor and right and truth. 
Why, life once spread itself before me with a pros- 
pect so glad, so beautiful, that it almost awed me ! 
But, after all, if a man bears within him the assur- 
ance that he is doing what he is in honor bound to 
do, surely that should be something! There — you 
see what you have forced from me. Yes, I did look 
eagerly forward when I heard that the jury could not 
agree. At least there was one man there who be- 
lieved me to be innocent, and without the slightest 
knowledge of him I blessed him for the belief.” 

He gazed round with the air of a man who was fear- 
ful that every movement he made was watched and 
observed by enemies, and then he said, in a low tone. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 123 

“ I need a friend.’’ 

I replied, instantly, following the tone that he had 
used, “ I am here ; I will be your friend.” 

It is a simple service I require,” he said ; I have 
a letter about me which I wish to be posted. What 
it contains concerns no one whom you know. It is 
my affair and mine only, and rather than make it an- 
other man’s I would be burned at the stake, though 
we don’t live in such barbarous times and then he 
added, with a sigh, “ But they are barbarous enough.” 

“ I will post the letter for you,” I said. 

He looked me in the face, a long, searching, wistful 
look, and as he gazed, I saw in his eyes a nobility of 
spirit which drew me as close to him in sympathy 
and admiration as I had ever been drawn in my life 
to any man. 

“Dare I trust you?” he said, still preserving his 
low tone. “ But if not you, whom can I trust ?” 

“ You may trust me,” I said ; “ I will post the let- 
ter for you faithfully.” 

“ Not close to the prison,” he said. “ Not in this 
district. Put it into a pillar-box at some distance 
from this spot.” 

“ I will do as you desire.” 

“ Honestly and honorably ?” he said. 

“ Honestly,” I responded, “ and honorably, as be- 
tween man and man.” 

“You are a good fellow,” he said, “I will trust 


124 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


you. I can never hope to repay you, but one day, 
perhaps, you may live to be glad that you did me even 
this slight service.” And he slipped the letter into 
my hand, which I as secretly slipped into my pocket. 
Then I said, 

“ May I come to see you again 

^^Do. You have lightened the day for me — and 
many a day in addition to this!” 

Soon afterwards I left him. I was honorably care- 
ful in the canning out of his directions. I did not 
take the letter from my pocket until I was quite 
three miles from the prison, and then I put it into a 
pillar-box ; but before I deposited it there, I looked 
at the address. Layton had not extracted a promise 
from me that I should not do so, and I will not say, 
therefore, whether, if he had, I should have violated 
it. I was engaged, against his will and wish, in his 
vital interests, and I might have broken such a prom- 
ise ; however that may be, my surprise was over- 
whelming when I saw that his letter was addressed 
to “ Miss Mabel Rutland, 32 Lavender Terrace, South 
Kensington.” 

Rutland ! Why, that was the name of the one jury- 
man who had held out upon Layton’s trial, and from 
whom I had vainly endeavored to obtain some useful 
information ! Of all the cases I have been engaged 
in, this promised to be not only the most momentous, 
but the most pregnant and interesting. Rutland! 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 125 

Kutland ! Had it been a common name, such as 
Smith or Jones, I might not have been so stirred. It 
was no chance coincidence. I was on the track, and 
with all the powers of my intellect I determined to 
carry it to a successful issue. 


Cable message from Mr. Bamhridge^ London^ to 
Mr. Archibald Laing.^ TI. S. 

^^Wlio is Miss Mabel Kutland, and is there any 
relationship between her and Mr. James Kutland ? 
Also, in what relation does she stand to Edward Lay- 
ton ? Can you give me any information respecting 
the Nine of Hearts 

Cable message from Mr. A rchibald Laing.^ UfS.^ to 
Mr. Bainbridge^ London. 

Miss Mabel Rutland is the niece of Mr. James 
Kutland. She and Mr. Edward Layton were once 
engaged to be married. The breaking off of the en- 
gagement caused great surprise, as they were deeply 
in love with each other. I do not understand your 
reference to the Nine of Hearts.” 

Cable message from Mr. Bainbridge to Mr. Archi- 
bald Laing. 

“ The Nine of Hearts I refer to is a playing-card. 
I have reasons for asking.” 


126 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Cable message from Mr. Archibald Laing to Mr. 
Bainbridge. 

^‘1 know nothing whatever concerning the Nine 
of Hearts.’’ 


II. 

The information you give me in your cable that 
Miss Mabel Rutland and Edward Layton were once 
engaged to be married is of the utmost interest to me. 
You will doubtless in your letters explain more fully 
what you know, but I do not wait for letters from 
you. Time is too precious for me to lose an hour, a 
moment. I feel confident, before you enlighten me 
upon this point, that I shall ferret out something of 
importance which may lead to the end we both de- 
sire. I may confess to you at once that the case has 
taken complete hold of me, and that, without any 
prospect of monetary compensation, I should devote 
myself to it. That Edward Layton is bent upon sac- 
rificing himself in some person’s interests seems to 
me to be certain. It would take something in the 
shape of a miracle to convince me that he is guilty of 
the crime of which he is charged. I have elected 
myself his champion, and if it be in the power of 
man to bring him out of his desperate strait with 
honor, I resolve, with all the earnestness of my heart 
and with all the strength of my intellect, to accom- 
plish it. The intelligence that Mr. James Rutland is 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 127 

uncle to the young lady to whom Edward Layton was 
engaged may be of use to me. I do not yet despair 
of obtaining useful information from him. 

My inquiry respecting the Nine of Hearts was not 
idly made. This particular playing-card, which was 
found in the pocket of Layton’s ulster, and of which 
he had no knowledge, is, I am convinced, an impor- 
tant feature in the case. 

I have already enlisted the services of three or four 
agents, and as I intend to spare no expense, it may be 
that I shall call upon your bankers for a further sum 
of money, which I feel assured you will not begrudge. 

Certain events are working in my favor. Of those 
that do not immediately bear upon the matter I shall 
make no mention, but those that do shall find a rec- 
ord here. 

For some portion of the day after my interview 
with Edward Layton in prison, I was, apart from my 
practical work, engaged upon the consideration of the 
question whether I should call upon Miss Mabel Rut- 
land, at 32 Lavender Terrace, South Kensington. I 
went there in a cab, and reconnoitred the house out- 
side, but I did not venture to enter it. It is one of a 
terrace of fourteen mansions, built in the Elizabethan 
style. No person could afford to reside there who 
was not in a position to spend a couple of thousand a 
year. The natural conclusion, therefore, is that Miss 
Rutland’s people are wealthy. 


128 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


That in the absence of some distinct guide or 
clew or information I should have been compelled to 
present myself at the address, for the purpose of seek- 
ing an interview with the young lady to whom Ed- 
ward Layton’s letter was addressed, was certain ; but 
chance or destiny came here to my assistance. 

Dr. Daincourt called upon me at between ten and 
eleven o’clock in the night. 

I make no apology for this late visit,” he said ; 

I have something of importance to communicate. 
When you spoke to me last night about the jury, you 
gave me the list of names to look over. I glanced at 
them casually, and gathered nothing from them, un- 
til Mr. Laing’s cable message arrived from America. 
That incident, of course, impressed upon my mind the 
name of Mr. James Rutland. It was strange to me ; 
I was not acquainted with any person bearing it. But 
it is most singular that this afternoon I was unexpect- 
edly called into consultation upon a serious case — a 
young lady. Miss Mabel Rutland, who has been for 
some time in a bad state. The diagnosis presents 
features sufficiently familiar to a specialist, and also 
sufficiently perplexing. Her nerves are shattered ; she 
is suffering mentally, and there is decided danger.” 

Miss Mabel Rutland,” I said, mechanically, “ liv- 
ing at 32 Lavender Terrace, South Kensington.” 

“You know her?” exclaimed Dr. Daincourt, in 
astonishment. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 129 


“I have never seen her,” I said, “but I know 
where she lives.” 

“ Is she related,” inquired Dr. Daincourt,“to the one 
juryman who held out upon Edward Layton’s trial?” 

“ There is no need for secrets between us,” I re- 
plied ; “ but it will be as well to keep certain matters 
to ourselves.” 

“ Certainly. I will not speak of them to any one. 
It is agreed that what passes between us is in confi- 
dence.” 

“ Miss Mabel Kutland is niece to the Mr. James 
Rutland who was on the jury.” 

“ That is strange,” exclaimed Dr. Daincourt. 

“Very strange,” I said; “but I shall be surprised 
if, before we come to the end of this affair, we do not 
meet with even stranger circumstances than that. 
Proceed, I beg, with what you have to tell me con- 
cerning Miss Rutland.” 

“Well,” said Dr. Daincourt, “her parents are in 
great distress about her. I saw and examined her, 
and I am much puzzled. There is notin' ng radically 
wrong with lier. There is no confirmed disease; her 
lungs are sufliciently strong; she is not in a consump- 
tion, and yet it may be that she will die. It is not 
her body that is suffering, it is her mind. Of course 
I was very particular in making the fullest inquiries, 
and indeed she interested me. Although her feat- 
ures are wasted, she is very beautiful, and there rests 
d 


130 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


upon her face an expression of suffering exaltation 
and self-sacrifice which deeply impressed me. In 
saying that this expression rests upon her face, I am 
speaking with exactness. It is not transient; it does 
not come and go. It is always there, and to my ex- 
perienced ey_es it appears to denote some strong trou- 
ble which has oppressed her for a considerable time, 
and under the pressure of which she has at length 
broken down. I could readily believe what her pa- 
rents told me, that there were times when she was 
delirious for many hours.” 

Has she been long ill ?” I inquired. 

She has been confined to her bed,” replied Dr. 
Daincourt, since the 26th of March.” 

“ The 26th of March,” I repeated ; the day on 
which Mrs. Edward Layton was found dead.” 

Dr. Daincourt started. ‘^I did not give that a 
thought,” he said. 

Why should you ?” I remarked. I may confess 
to you, doctor, that I apply almost everything I hear 
to the case upon which I am engaged. I shall sur- 
prise you even more when I ask you whether, during 
the time you were in 32 Lavender Terrace, you heard 
the name of Edward Layton mentioned ?” 

‘^Ho,” replied Dr. Daincourt; ^‘his name was not 
mentioned. Eainbridge, I know that you are not 
given to idle talk; there is always some meaning in 
what you say.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 131 

Assuredly,” I said, ‘‘ I am not in the mood for 
idle talk just now. Events are marching on, doctor, 
and I am inclined to think that we are on the brink 
of a discovery. You have not yet told me all I wish 
to know concerning Miss Mabel Kutland. What 
members of the family did you see?” 

Her mothei*, her father, and herself,” replied Dr. 
Daincourt. 

Do those comprise the whole of the family ?” 

“I do not know; I did not inquire.” 

‘^Give me some description of her parents.” 

“ Her father,” said Dr. Daincourt, is a gentleman 
of about sixty years of age.” 

“Is there any doubt in your mind that he is a 
gentleman ?” 

“Not the slightest.” 

“ Attached to his daughter — entertaining an affec- 
tion for her ?” 

“ I should certainly say so, but at the same time not 
given to sentimental demonstration.” 

“ As to character, now ?” I asked. “ What impres- 
sion did he leave upon you ?” 

“ That he was stern, self-willed, unbending. Hard 
to turn, I suspect, when once he is resolved.” 

“Like his brother,” I observed, “Mr. James Rut- 
land, who was on Layton’s trial. Those traits , evi- 
dently run in the family. Now, as to his wife?” 

“A gentle and amiable lady,” said Dr. Daincourt, 


132 


TRE ^’INE OF HEARTS. 


“ some eight or ten years younger than her husband ; 
but her hair is already grayer than his; it is almost 
white.” 

“She and her daughter resemble each other,” I 
remarked. 

“Yes; and there is also on the mother’s face an 
expression of devotion and self-sacrifice. Her eyes 
continually overfiowed when we were speaking of 
her daughter.” 

“ Not so the father’s eyes ?” 

“No; but he showed no want of feeling.” 

“ Still, doctor,” I said, “ you gather from your one 
visit to the house that he is the master of it — in every 
sense, I mean.” 

“ Most certainly the master.” 

“Ruling,” I remarked, “ with a rod of iron.” 

“ You put ideas into my head,” said Dr. Daincourt, 
in a somewhat helpless tone. 

“ If they clash with your own, say so.” 

“ They do not clash with mj^ own, but I am not 
prone so suddenly to take such decided views. I 
should say you are right, Bainbridge, and that in his 
house Mr. Rutland’s will is law.” 

“Would that be likely,” I asked, “to account in 
any way for the expression of self - sacrifice j’ou ob- 
served on the faces of mother and daughter?” 

“ It might be so,” said Dr. Daincourt, thought- 
fully. • ^ 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 133 


Proceed, now,” I said, “and tell me all that 
passed.” 

“ But little remains to tell,” said Dr. Daincourt. 
“I informed the parents that their daughter was suf- 
fering more from mental than from physical causes ; 
that it was clear to me that there was a heavy trouble 
upon her mind, and that, until her trouble was re- 
moved, there was but faint hope of her getting well 
and strong. ‘ I am speaking in the dark,’ I said to 
the parents, “ and while 1 remain in ignorance of the 
cause, it is almost impossible for me to prescribe salu- 
tary remedies.’ ‘ Can you do nothing for her ?’ 
asked the father. ‘Can you not give her some medi- 
cine ?’ ‘ Yes, I can give her medicine,’ 1 replied, ‘ but 

notliing that would be likely to be of benefit to her. 
Indeed, the medicine already in her room is such as 
would be ordinarily prescribed by a medical man 
who had not reached the core of the patient’s dis- 
ease.’ ‘ If she goes on as she is going on now,’ said 
the father, ‘ what will be the result V ‘ Her strength 
is failing fast,’ I replied ; ‘what little reserve she has 
to draw upon will soon be exhausted. If she goes on 
as she is going on now, l am afraid there will be but 
one result.’ The mother burst into tears; the father 
fixed his steady gaze upon me, but I saw his lips quiv- 
er. ‘ We have called you in. Dr. Daincourt,’ he said, 
‘ because we have heard of wonderful cures you have 
effected in patients who have suffered from weak 


134 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


nerves.’ ‘ I have been happily successful,’ I said, ‘ in 
efPecting cures, but I have never yet succeeded where 
a secret has been hidden from me.’ At these words 
the mother raised her hands imploringly to her hus- 
band. ^Do you think that a secret is being hidden 
from you in this case V asked the father. ‘ It is not 
for me to say,’ I replied ; ^ it is simply my duty to ac- 
quaint you with the fact that your daughter’s disease 
is mental, and that her condition is critical. Until I 
learn the cause of her grief, I am powerless to aid 
her.’ ^ Will you oblige me by calling to-morrow V 
asked the father, after a slight pause. ^ Yes,’ I said, 
preparing to depart, will call in tlie afternoon, and, 
if you wish, will see your daughter again.’ He ex- 
pressed his thanks in courteous terms, and I took my 
leave. I should have come here earlier, Bainbridge, 
to relate this to you, but I have liad other serious 
cases to attend to. A doctor’s time is not his own, 
you know.” 

have something to tell you, doctor,” I said, 

with reference to your new patient, which will in- 
terest you. Mabel Kutland was once engaged to be 
married to Edward Layton, and 1 believe thei*e was 
a deep and profound attachment between them.” 

‘^You startle me,” he said, “and Iiave given me 
food for thought.” 

When he bade me good-night, it was with the de- 
termination to extract, if possible, from Mabel Rut* 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 135 


land’s parents some information respecting her men- 
tal condition which might be used to her benefit 
For my part, I must confess to the hope, unreasonable 
as it may appear, that he may also be successful in 
obtaining some information which will assist me in 
the elucidation of the mystery upon which I am em- 
ployed. 

Cable message from Mr, Bainhridge,, London,^ to Mr, 
Archibald Laing^ U, S, 

‘‘ Give me what particulars you can of Miss Mabel 
Rutland and her parents, and of her brothers and 
sisters, if she has any.” 

Cable message from Mr, Archibald Laing,, U, S,^ to 
Mr, Bainbridge^ London, 

‘^Miss Mabel Rutland has no sisters. She has 
only a twin-brother, Eustace, to whom she was pas- 
sionately attached and devoted. This brother and 
sister and their parents comprise the family. Mr. 
Rutland is of an implacable and relentless disposi- 
tion, impatient of contradiction, and obstinate to a 
degree. These qualities were exercised in my favor 
some years ago, when I paid court to Miss Rutland, 
in the hope of making her my wife. Her father 
would have forced her into a marriage with me, but 
when I could no longer doubt that she loved Edward 
Layton, I preferred to retire rather than render her 


136 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


unhappy. By so doing, I think I won her esteem, 
and it is for her sake I wish Layton to be cleared of 
the charge brought against him. It is my belief 
that she still loves liim, and she must be suffering 
terribly. If Layton is convicted, it will break her 
heart. I know very little of her brother Eustace. 
Lie was at Oxford when I was in London, and I met 
him only once or twice. Mrs. Rutland is a sweet 
lady, gentle- mannered, kindly -hearted, and I fear 
domineered over by her husband.” 

III. 

I thank you for the information contained in your 
last cable. It gives me an insight into the generous 
motives which have prompted you to step forward 
on Edwai-d Layton’s behalf, and I am gratified in be- 
ing associated with you in the cause. When a coun- 
sel finds liimself en rapport with his client, it is gen- 
erally of assistance to him ; he works with a better 
spirit. 

Three days have passed since I wTote and de- 
spatched to you the second portion of the narrative 
of my proceedings and progress. I was waiting anx- 
iously for something to occur — I could not exactly 
say what— which would serve as an absolute step- 
ping-stone. Something 4(25 occurred which, although 
I have not yet discovered the key to it, will, I be- 
lieve, prove to be of the utmost importance. You 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 137 


will understand later on what I mean by my use of 
the word “ key and when I tell you that this which 
I call the stepping-stone is nothing more or less than 
the Nine of Hearts, you will give me credit for my 
prescience on the first production of that card in the 
Criminal Court. I felt convinced tliat it would be 
no insignificant factor in the elucidation of the Lay- 
ton mystery. 

I may say here tliat the progress we have made is 
entirely due to Dr. Daincourt. What I should have 
done had he not been unexpectedly called in to our 
assistance, it is difficult to say. I should not have 
been idle, but it is scarcely likel}^ that, within so short 
a time, my actions would have led to the point we 
have now reached. Dr. Daincourt has allowed him- 
self to be prompted by me to a certain extent, and 
his interest in his beautiful patient has been intensi- 
fied by the friendship existing between us, and by 
the esteem we both entertain for Edward Layton. 

In accordance with the promise Dr. Daincourt gave 
to Mr. Kutland, he called upon that gentleman on 
the day following his first visit to the house. During 
the interval Miss Rutland’s condition had not im- 
proved; it had, indeed, grown worse. There was an 
aggravation of the feverish symptoms, and her speech 
was wild and incoherent. Perhaps it would be more 
correct to say that it was wild and incoherent to those 
who were assembled at her bedside. I hold to the 


138 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


theory that there is a method in dreams, and I also 
hold to the theory that there is a method in the wild- 
est utterances produced by the wildest delirium. I 
speak, of course, as a lawyer. Dr. Daincourt’s posi- 
tion with respect to Miss Rutland was that of a phy- 
sician. Had / heard the words uttered by Miss Rut- 
land in her fevered state, I do not doubt that my 
legal training would have enabled me to detect what 
was hidden from Dr. Daincourt and the young lady’s 
parents. 

During this second visit to Miss Rutland, her father 
requested Dr. Daincourt to give him" a private inter- 
view, in the course of which he elicited from the 
doctor an accentuation of the views which Dr. Dain- 
court had expressed *on the previous day. Mr. Rut- 
land made a vain attempt to combat these views. He 
would have been glad to be assured that his daughter 
was suffering from a physical, and not from a mental 
malady ; but Dr. Daincourt was positive, and was not 
to be moved from his conviction. He emphasized 
his inability to treat the case with any hope of suc- 
cess, and he repeated his belief, if Miss Rutland were 
allowed to continue in her present condition without 
any effort being made to arrive at the cause of her 
mental suffering, that there could be but one result — 
death before the end of the year. 

At the commencement of this interview between 
Mr. Rutland and Dr. Daincourt, Mrs. Rutland was 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 139 

not present ; but after it had lasted some twenty min- 
utes or so, her atixiety became so overpowering that 
she knocked at the door of tlie room in which the 
conversation was taking place, and begged to be ad- 
mitted. The issue at stake was so grave that Mr. 
Rutland could not refuse, and thus it was that she 
was present when Dr. Daincourt spoke in plain terms 
of the serious condition of his beautiful patient. The 
mother’s distress was pitiable, but it appeared to pro- 
duce no impression upon her husband. 

“And yet,” said Dr. Daincourt, in narrating the 
affair to me, “ I am sure that Mr. Rutland w^as in- 
wardly suffering, and I am also sure that he has a 
sincere affection for his daughter.” 

The interview terminated by Mr. Rutland request- 
ing Dr. Daincourt to call again the next day, to which 
request the doctor gave a reluctant assent. 

He called on the following day, with the same re- 
sult. Again he saw the patient ; again he had an 
interview with Mr. Rutland, at which Mrs. Rutland 
was present; again he emphasized his view of the 
young lady’s condition ; and again Mr. Rutland re- 
quested him to pay another visit upon his daughter. 
Dr. Daincourt objected. He told Mr. Rutland that, 
as matters stood, his visits were useless, and that in 
the absence of necessary information it was his dis- 
tinct wish to be relieved from them. 

“And I feel it my duty,” he said to the father, “ to 


140 the nine of hearts. 

inform you that if you intend to do nothing further 
than it seems to me is your present intention, you are 
playing with your daughter’s life.” 

These were grave words to use, but Dr. Daincourt 
is no ordinary man. Ilis knowledge and experience 
lead him intuitively to correct conclusions, and in his 
professional capacity he will not be trifled with. 

“In these circumstances,” he said to Mr. Rutland, 
“ I must beg of you to summon some other physician 
in whom you have greater confidence.” 

“I have the fullest confidence in you,” said Mr. 
Rutland. 

“ You have not shown it,” was Dr. Daincourt’s re- 
joinder. “ It is as though you have determined that 
you, and not I, shall be your daughter’s physician.” 

However, he allowed himself to be prevailed upon 
to pay Miss Rutland yet another visit. But he gave 
his consent only upon the express stipulation that it 
should be his last, unless Mr. Rutland placed him in 
possession of information which would enable him to 
fully understand the case. 

I come now to this fourth interview, which was 
pregnant with results. 

Upon presenting himself at the house he was re- 
ceived by Mrs. Rutland, who said to him, 

“My husband has consented that I should tell 
you all you desire to know with respect to our dear 
child.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 141 


“ You have prevailed upon him to consent/’ said 
Dr. Daincoiirt. 

“ Yes/’ replied Mrs. Rutland, I have, thank God ! 
prevailed upon him to consent. Dear doctor, you 
will save my child, will you not?” 

“I will do all that lies in my power,” said Dr. 
Dai n court. 

“ What is it you wish to know ?” asked Mrs. Rut- 
land. 

“Everything that concerns your daughter,” said 
Dr. Daincourt, “ with respect to her disposition, hab- 
its, likings, and affections. She has a terrible weight 
upon her mind, and you must certainly have some 
suspicion of the cause. You may have more than a 
suspicion, you may have a positive knowledge. You 
must hide nothing from me. Unless you are pre- 
pared to be absolutely and entirely frank in your 
disclosui-es, I cannot undertake to continue my visits. 
You are her mother — you love her tenderly ?” 

“ 1 love her with all my heart and soul,” said Mrs. 
Rutland, weeping. “ If my daughter is taken from 
me, I shall not care to live !” 

“In deep sincerity, then,” said Dr. Daincourt, “I 
declai-e to you that you may be acting as your daugh- 
ter’s enemy instead of her friend if you do not open 
your heart and mind to me freely and without re- 
straint. Relate as briefly as you can, without omit- 
ting important points, the story of her life.” 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


m 

It was a simple, touching story which Mrs. Rutland 
disclosed, fragrant with all that is sweetest in wom- 
an. The Rutlands have but two children, Mabel and 
Eustace, who came into the world within a few min- 
utes of each other. Between these children exist- 
ed a most profound and devoted love, and to tear 
Eustace away from Mabel was like tearing the girl’s 
heartstrings. The lad’s love was the weaker of the 
two, as is usually the case, but he nevertheless adoi’ed 
his sister, who repaid him tenfold for all the affec- 
tion he lavished upon her. They grew up together, 
shared each other’s pleasures, had secret and inno- 
cent methods of communicating with each other 
which afforded them intense delight, and were in- 
separable until they reached the age of eighteen, 
when Eustace went to college. Hitherto his studies 
had been conducted at home, a home of peace and 
harmony and love ; for, stern and implacable as Mr. 
Rutland was, he loved his children and his wife ; but 
he loved something else equally well — his honor and 
his good name. While Eustace was absent at college, 
he and Mabel corresponded regularly. 

But,” said the mother, neither my husband nor 
myself was ever able to understand Eustace’s letters 
to his sister. They were always written in the form 
of mystery-letters. It had been their favorite amuse- 
ment when they were children to discover and invent 
new methods of corresponding with each other, of 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 143 


which only they possessed the secret. ^ There, mam- 
ma,’ Mabel would say, with a laugh, giving me one 
of my dear Eustace’s letters from college, ^ read that !’ 
But it might as well have been written in Greek for 
anything that I could make of it. Words and figures 
were jumbled together, witjiout any meaning in them 
that I could discover, and the entire page was a per- 
fect puzzle. Then Mabel would take the letter from 
me, and read it off as easily as possible ; and I re- 
member her saying once, ^ If Eustace and I ever have 
any real secrets, mamma, we shall be able to tell them 
to each other through the post, without any person 
in the world being one bit the wiser.’ Little did I 
think that the time would arrive when her words 
would bear a fatal meaning.” 

Eustace, then, being at college, and Mabel at home, 
it unfortunately happened that the lad fell into evil 
ways. He got mixed up with bad companions. The 
hours that should have been employed in stud}" were 
wasted in gambling and dissipation, and his career at 
college was by no means creditable. Ilis father had 
set his heart upon Eustace obtaining honors at Ox- 
ford, and he was sorely and bitterly disappointed 
when the reports of his son’s proceedings reached 
him. Unfortunately these reports did not come to 
his ears until much mischief had been done, and it 
was at about this time that Eustace returned home, 
declaring that he would never go back to college. 


144 


J-HE NINE OF HEARTS. 


At about this time, also, momentous events were 
occurring in Mabel’s life. A beautiful girl, with an 
amiable and sweet disposition, with most winning 
wajs, and with a wealth}^ father moving in a good 
social position, it was not to be wondered at that she 
had suitors for her hand#; but there were only two 
whose affection for her was regarded seriouslj^ by the 
family. One of these was Mr. Edward Layton, the 
other Mr. Archibald Laing. 

Mabel’s father favored the suit of Archibald Laing ; 
Mabel’s uncle, the gentleman who was upon the jury 
in the trial, favored the suit of Edward Layton. He 
was never weary of sounding the young man’s praises, 
and it may be that this rather strengthened Mabel’s 
father against Edward Layton. However, the young 
lady had decided for herself. She had given her 
heart to Edward Layton, and there grew between 
them an absorbing and devoted attachment. 

While these matters were in progress, both Archi- 
bald Laing and Edward Layton were admitted freely 
to the house, and thus they had equal chances. But 
when the lady whom two men are in love with makes 
up her mind, the chances are no longer equal. It 
was not without a struggle that Archibald Laing 
abandoned his pretensions. From what afterwards 
transpired, he could not have loved Mabel with less 
strength than Edward Layton did. It was no small 
sacrifice on his part to relinquish his hopes of win- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 145 


niiig Mabel for his wife, more especially when her 
father was on his side. There were interviews of an 
affecting nature between him and Mabel. There 
were interviews, also, between him and Edward Lay- 
ton. The two men had been friends long before 
they came into association with Mabel Rutland, and 
it speaks well for the generosity and nobility of their 
natures that this affair of the heart— the like of which 
has been the cause of bitter feuds from time imme- 
morial — did not turn their friendship into enmity. In 
the estimate of their characters at this period Archi- 
bald Laing showed the higher nobility, for the reason 
that it devolved upon him to make a voluntary and 
heart-rending sacrifice. He informed the young 
lady’s parents that he gave up all hope of obtaining 
their daughter’s hand, and at the same time he de- 
clared that if it ever lay in his power to render Ma- 
bel or Edward Layton a service, he would not hesi- 
tate to render it, whatever might be the cost. Nobly 
has he redeemed this pledge. 

He suffered much — to such an extent, indeed, that 
he determined to leave the country, and find a home 
in another land. He bade the Rutlands farewell by 
letter, and sailed for America, where he settled, and 
realized an amazing fortune. 

The field was thus left free for Mabel and Ed- 
ward. Mr. Rutland was seriously displeased. He 
had been thwarted in a wish that was very dear to 
10 


146 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


him, and he was not tlie kind of man to forget the 
defeat. Although Edward Layton was allowed to 
come to the house, Mr. Rutland received him without 
favor, and it was only upon the imploring and re- 
peated solicitations of his wife and daughter that he 
consented to an engagement between the young peo- 
ple. ht was a half-hearted consent, and caused them 
some unhappiness. More than once he declared in 
their presence, and in the presence of his wife, that 
if anything ever occurred which would cast the 
slightest shadow of doubt or dishonor upon Edward 
Layton, no power on earth should induce him to al- 
low the marriage to take place. It was not necessary 
for him to impress upon them that, above everything 
else in the world, he was jealous of his good name. 
They knew this well enough, and were in a certain 
sense proud in the knowledge, because the stainless 
reputation he bore reflected honor upon themselves. 
But tliey did not see the cloud that was hanging 
above them. It gathered surely and steadily, and 
brought with it terrible events, in the whirlpool of 
which the happiness of Mabel and Edward was fated 
to be ingulfed. 

The cause lay not in themselves. It lay in Eus- 
tace Rutland. It was he who was responsible for 
all. 

He was in London, in partial disgrace with his fa- 
ther. lie was without a career; he had already con- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 147 

tracted vicious and idle habits; he was frequently 
from home ; and although his father questioned him 
severely, he would give no truthful account of his 
movements and proceedings. Some accounts he did 
give, but his father knew instinctively that they 
were false or evasive. As he could obtain no satis- 
faction from his son, Mr. Rutland, aware of»*the per- 
fect conlidence which existed betw^een Eustace and 
Mabel, applied to her for information ; but she would 
not utter one word Jo her brother’s hurt. Her father 
could extract nothing from her, and there gradually 
grew within him an idea that there was a conspiracy 
against him in his own home, a conspiracy in which 
Edward Layton was the principal agent. It was nat- 
ural, perhaps, that he should think more hardly of 
this stranger than of his own children. 

Had he set a watch upon his son, he might have 
made discoveries which would have been of service 
to all, and which might have averted terrible conse- 
quences. But proud and self-willed as he was, it did 
not occur to him to do anything which in his view 
savored of meanness. Ilis son Eustace went his way, 
therefore, to sure and certain ruin. When he was ab- 
sent from home he corresponded regularly with his 
sister, and Mr. Rutland sometimes demanded to see 
this correspondence. 

“ You can make nothing of it, papa,” said Mabel. 
“ Eustace and I do not correspond like other people.” 


148 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


He insisted, nevertheless, upon seeing these letters, 
and Mabel showed them to him. As he could not 
understand them, he demanded that she should read 
them intelligibly to him ; but it being a fact that 
there was always something in Eustace’s correspond- 
ence which would deepen his father’s anger against 
him, the young girl refused to read them. This, as 
may be supposed, did not tend to pacify Mr. Eutland. 
It intensified the bitterness of his heart towards those 
whom he believed were conspiring against him. He 
applied to Edward Layton. 

“You are in my daughter’s confidence/’ he said 
to the young man, “ and as you have wrung from me 
a reluctant consent to an engagement with her, I 
must ask you to give me the information which she 
withholds from me.” 

He met with another rebuff. Edward Layton de- 
clared that he would not violate the confidence which 
Mabel had reposed in him. At one time Mr. Eut- 
land said to Edward Layton, 

“ My son has been absent from home for several 
days. Have you seen him ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Edward, “ I have seen him.” 

But he would say nothing further. 

He was in a most painful position. Mabel had 
extracted from him a solemn promise that he would 
reveal nothing without her consent, and he was 
steadfastly loyal to her. He had another reason for 


THE MYSTERY OP THE NINE OP HEARTS. 149 


his silence, and, in the light of that reason, and of 
the feelings which Mr. Rutland harbored towards 
him, he felt that the happiness he hoped would be 
his was slipping from him. 

The explanation of this other reason, which un- 
happily was a personal one, brings upon the scene a 
person wlio played a brief but pregnant part in this 
drama of real life, and who is now in his grave. 
This person was Edward Layton’s father. 

“ What was the nature of the relations,” said Mrs. 
Rutland, between this gentleman and my dear son 
Eustace I do not know. All that I do know is that 
they were in association with each other, and, I am 
afraid, not to a good end. It came, also, by some 
strange means, to the knowledge of my husband, and 
a frightful scene occurred between him and Edward 
Layton, in which Mabel’s lover was dismissed from 
the house. My husband withdrew the consent he 
had given to the engagement, and used words which, 
often since when I have thought of them, have made 
me shudder, they were so unnecessarily cruel and 
severe. ‘ If from this day,’ my husband said to the 
young gentleman, ^you pursue my daughter with 
your attentions, you will be playing a base and dis- 
honorable part. If you wish me to turn my daughter 
from my house, you can by your actions bring about 
this result. But bear in mind, should it come to 
pass, that she will go from my presence with my 


150 THE NINE OF HEARTS. 

curse upon her — a beggar ! I am not ignorant or 
my duties with respect to my children. I have not 
been sparing of love towards them. Hard I may be 
when m5^ feelings are strongly roused, but I am ever 
just. In the secrets that are being hidden from me 
there is, I am convinced, some degrading and shame- 
ful element ; otherwise, it is not possible that you 
should conspire to keep them from me. If the mat- 
ter upon which you are engaged were honorable, 
there w^ould be no occasion to keep it from my 
knowledge. Do not forget that you have it in your 
power to wreck not only my daughter’s happiness, 
but her mother’s and mine, if that consideration will 
have any weight with you.’ There was much more 
than this, to which Mr. Edward Layton listened with 
a sad patience, which deepened my pity for him. 
He bore, without remonstrance, all the obloquies that 
were heaped upon him by my unhappy husband, who 
soon afterwards left the room with the injunction 
that Mr. Layton was on no account to be allowed 
an interview with my daughter. Then Mr. Layton 
said to me, ^I must bear it. If the happiness of my 
life is lost it will be through the deep, the sacred 
love I bear for your child. I devote not only the 
dearest hopes of my life, but my life itself, to her 
cause. Fate is against us. A man can do no more 
than his duty.’ ” 

From that day to this Mabel’s mother has never 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 151 

seen Edward Layton. When she heard of Iiis mar- 
riage into a family whose position in society was to 
say the least equivocal, she w^as in great distress, fear- 
ing the effect the news would have upon her dear 
daughter. Mabel Rutland suffered deeply, but dur- 
ing that time of anguisli she appeared to summon to 
her aid a certain fortitude and resignation which 
served her in good stead. It astonished her mothei’, 
one day, to hear her say, 

“Do not blame Edward, mamma ; he is all that 
is good and noble. Although he is anotlier lady’s 
husband, and although our lives can never be united, 
as we had once hoped, I shall ever love and honor 
him.” 

“Time will bring comfort to you, my darling,” 
said the mother, “ and it may be that there is still a 
happy fate in store for you. You may meet witli an- 
other man, around whom no mystery hangs, to whom 
your heart will be drawn.” 

“Never, mamma,” replied Mabel. “I shall never 
marry now.” 

What most grievously disturbed Mrs. Rutland was 
the circumstance that, even within a few weeks of 
E^iward Layton’s marriage, he corresponded with 
her daughter. Her father was not aware of this, 
lie usually rose late in the morning, and it devolved 
upon Mrs. Rutland to receive the correspondence 
which came by the first post. The letters that Ed- 


152 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


ward Layton wrote to Mabel were invariably posted 
at night, from which it would appear that the young 
man was aware that they would fall into the hands 
of Mabel’s mother, and that Mr. Rutland, unless he 
were made acquainted with the fact, was not likely 
otherwise to discover it. When Mrs. Rutland gave 
her daughter the first letter from Mr. Layton, Mabel 
said to her, 

“ Do not be alarmed, mamma. This letter is in 
reply to one I wrote to Mr. Layton. I may have 
other letters from him which I beg you to give me 
without papa’s knowing. It may appear wrong to 
you, but it is really not so. Everything is being done 
for the best, as perhaps you will one day learn.” 

Sad at heart as Mrs. Rutland was, she had too firm 
a trust in her daughter’s innate purity and sense of 
self-respect not to believe what she said, both in its 
letter and in its spirit, and thus it was that the secret 
of this correspondence was also kept from Mr. Rut- 
land. By pursuing the course she did, Mrs. Rut- 
land preserved, to some extent, peace in the house- 
hold. 

Thus matters went on for two years, until Eustace 
Rutland’s wild conduct produced a terrible disturb- 
ance. LLis absences from home had grown more fre- 
quent and prolonged; he became dreadfully involv- 
ed, and Mr. Rutland received letters and visits from 
money-lenders (a class of men that he abhorred) in 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 153 


connection with his son’s proceedings. Incensed be- 
yond endurance, he banished Eustace from the house, 
and forbade him ever again to enter his doors. 

It seemed to be fated,” said Mrs. Kutland, “ that 
there should be always something in our family that 
it 'was necessary to conceal from my husband’s knowl- 
edge. He banished Eustace from home, but that did 
not w^eaken my love for our dear lad. Three times 
during the past year I have seen Eustace, and I have 
not made my husband acquainted with the fact. 
What could I do? Had I asked his permission he 
would have sternly refused it, and had I told him 
that I could not resist the impulse of my heart to 
fold my dear boy in my arms, it would only have 
made matters worse for all of us.” 

She related to Dr. Daincourt a circumstance which 
had deeply angered her husband. Among the pres- 
ents the father had given to his daughter was a very 
costly one, a diamond bracelet of great value, for 
which Mr. Eutland had paid no less than five hun- 
dred guineas. One evening a dinner-party was given 
at the house, and Mr. Eutland particularly desired 
that Mabel should look her best on the occasion. He 
said as much to his daughter, and expressed a desire 
that she should w’ear certain articles of jewellery, 
and most especially her diamond bracelet. He no- 
ticed at the dinner-table that this bracelet was not 
upon Mabel’s arm; he made no remark before his 


154 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


guests, but when they had departed he asked Mabel 
why she had not worn it. 

I have so many other things, papa,” she replied, 
that you have given me. It was not necessary.” 

But,” said her father, “ I desired you particular- 
ly to wear the bracelet. Is it broken ? If so, it can 
be easily repaired. Let me see it.” 

Tlien the mother saw trouble in her daughter’s 
face. Mabel endeavored, to evade her father’s re- 
quest, and strove to turn the conversation into an- 
other channel. But he insisted so determinedly upon 
seeing the bracelet that she was at length compelled 
to confess that it was not in her possession. Upon 
this Mr. Rutland questioned her more closely, but he 
could obtain from her no satisfactory information as 
to what had become of it. Suddenly he inquired if 
her purse was in her room. She answered yes, and 
he desired her to bring it down to him. She obeyed ; 
and when he opened the purse he found only three 
or four shillings in it. 

“ Is this all you have ?” he inquired. 

“ Yes, papa,” she said, this is all.” 

“But it was only yesterday,” said Mr. Rutland, 
“ that you asked me for twenty pounds, and I gave 
it to you. What have you done with the money?” 

Upon this point, also, he could obtain no satisfac- 
tory information. He was greatly angered. 

“ I thought,” he said, “ when Mr. Layton married 


ME MYSTERY THE NINE OF HEARTS. 155 

into the family of a professional sharp — a fit connec- 
tion for him — that the conspiracy in my house against 
my peace of mind, and, it seems to me, against my 
honor, would come to an end. It was not so. I per- 
ceive that I am regarded here as an enemy by my 
own family, not as a man who has endeavored all 
through life to perform his duties in an honorable 
and straightforward way. Go to your room, and let 
me see the diamond bracelet before this month is 
ended, or let me know what you have done with it. 
If you have lost it,” he added, gazing sternly upon 
his daughter, “ find it.” 

Before the month was ended Mabel showed him 
the diamond bracelet; but her mother was aware that 
there were other articles missing from among her 
daughter’s jewellery. 

Mrs. Rutland having come to the end of her nar- 
rative, Dr. Daincourt began to question her. 

Your daughter,” he said, “ was taken ill on the 
26th of March, and I understand that she has been 
confined to her bed since that day. Were there any 
premonitory symptoms of a serious illness, or was the 
seizure a sudden one ?” 

“ It was quite sudden,” replied Mrs. Rutland. I 
went into her room early in the morning, and found 
her in a high state of fever.” 

Has she been sensible at all since that time?” 
^^No.” 


156 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


“Not sufficiently sensible to recognize any one 
who attended her 

“ No ; she does not even know me, her own moth- 
er.” 

“ What did the physician whom you first called in 
say about the case 

“ He said that she had brain-fever, and that it had 
been accelerated by her having caught a violent cold 
through wearing damp clothing.” 

“Do you think she wore that clothing in the 
house ?” 

“No.” 

(Dr. Daincourt has certain ways and methods of 
his own. He is in the habit of keeping in his pock- 
et-book a tablet of the weather from day to day.) 

“ If your daughter did not wear damp clothes in 
the house,” he said, “she must have worn them out 
of the house.” 

He took his pocket-book from his pocket and con- 
sulted his weather-tablet. 

“ I see,” he said to Mrs. Rutland, “ that from the 
12th till the 25th of March there was no rain. Tlie 
weather was mild and unusually warm during those 
days, but on the evening of the 25th of March it 
began to rain, and rained during the night. Your 
daughter must have been out during those hours in 
the bad weather. What were her movements on 
that evening? Remember, you must keep nothing 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 157 

from me if you wish me to do my best to restore 
your child to health.” 

Still, it was with some diflBculty that he .extract- 
ed from Mrs. Rutland the information he desired to 
obtain. Obtain it, however, he did. Mrs. Rutland 
informed him that Mabel had gone out on the even- 
ing of the 25th of March, and did not return home 
until nearly one o’clock in the morning. Mr. Rut- 
land was not aware of this. Mrs. Rutland had stop- 
ped up for her daughter, and had let her in quietly 
and secretly. The young girl was pale and greatly 
agitated, but she said nothing to her mother. She 
kissed her hurriedly, went to her bedroom, and was 
found the next morning in the condition Mrs. Rut- 
land had described. 

“ Being in a fever from that day,” said Dr. Dain- 
court to the mother, “ your daughter has seen no 
newspapers ?” 

“No.” 

“ And she is ignorant of the peril through which 
her former lover, Edward Layton, has passed, and in 
which he still stands ?” 

“ She is ignorant of it,” said Mrs. Rutland. 

“Have any letters arrived for her during her ill- 
ness ?” 

“ Yes, two. One in the handwriting of Mr. Lay- 
ton, the other from my dear boy Eustace.” 

“ Have you those letters ?” 


158 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Yes.” 

Have you opened them ?” 

No. My daughter made me give her a solemn 
promise that I would never open one of her letters, 
and I have not done so.” 

“ But,” said Dr. Daincourt, “ this is a matter of 
life and death. I must ask you to give me those 
letters, and I will take upon myself the responsibility 
of opening them. 1 must ask you for something 
more. Your daughter has a desk ?” 

‘^Yes.” 

‘‘ The key of which is in her room ?” 

^‘Yes.” 

“Bring down the desk and the key. Ask me no 
questions concerning my motives. I am in hopes 
that I shall be able to discover the true cause of 
your daughter’s illness, and that will enable me to 
adopt towards her the only treatment by which it is 
possible she can recover.” 

Mrs. Rutland brought down the desk and the key. 
In the mother’s presence Dr. Daincourt opened the 
desk. There were in it no letters from Edward Lay- 
ton, but it contained two of what Mrs. Rutland called 
the mystery-letters which Eustace was in the habit of 
writing to his sister. These letters were in their 
envelopes, the post-marks upon which indicated their 
order of delivery. 

Dr. Daincourt could make nothing of them, and 


THE MYSTERY OF THE KIKE OF HEARTS. 159 


Mrs. Rutland could not assist him. They were 
written upon small single sheets of note-paper, and 
appeared to be a perfect jumble of incomprehensi- 
ble words ; around the margin of these words were a 
number of figures and alphabetical letters as incom- 
prehensible as themselves. Searching further in the 
desk, he made a startling discovery — three playing- 
cards, each of them being the Nine of Hearts. He 
asked Mrs. Rutland — who appeared to be almost as 
startled as he was himself by the discovery — whether 
she could give him any explanation of the cards, and 
she said that she could not. Then Dr. Daincourt said 
that he would take the playing-cards and the letters 
away with him. 

“ At the same time,’’ he observed to Mrs. Rutland, 
“ if it is any consolation to you, I undertake your 
daughter’s case, and will do the best for her that lies 
within my skill and power.” 

He then went to see Miss Rutland in her bed, 
wrote out a prescription, gave certain instructions, 
and left the house. 

“ I have come to you,” said Dr. Daincourt to me, 
‘Svith these letters and the playing-cards; I will 
leave them with you. You said that the Nine of 
Hearts was a tangible link in the chain of Edward 
Layton’s innocence. Is it not most mysterious and 
strange that three of these identical cards should be 
found in Miss Rutland’s desk, and that one should be 


160 the nine of hearts. 

found in the pocket of Edward Layton’s ulster which 
he wore on the 25 th of March ? Does not this cir- 
cumstance, in conjunction with what you now know 
of Mabel Rutland’s movements on that night, go far 
to prove that the lady whom Edward Layton met 
in Bloomsbury Square was none other than his old 
sweetheart? Heaven knows what conclusions are to 
be drawn from the coincidence. I will make no com- 
ments; indeed, 1 almost tremble to think of the mat- 
ter. Your legal mind will, perhaps, enable you to 
deduce something from Eustace’s letter to his sister 
which may be of service to you and Edward Layton. 
To me they are simply incomprehensible. Before 
I visit Miss Rutland to-morrow I will call on you. 
You may have something to say to me. I sincerely 
trust I shall not be the means of bringing fresli 
trouble upon her and hers.” 

With that he wished me good-night, and I was left 
alone. I set myself sedulously to the task of discov- 
ering the key to these mysterious letters. Dr. Dain- 
court had not opened the two sealed letters which had 
arrived during Miss Rutland’s illness, and I did not 
immediately do so. I felt a delicacy with respect to 
Edward Layton’s letter to the young lady which he 
had given me in prison to post for him. I put them 
aside, and selecting the first of tlie two letters from 
Eustace Rutland which had been found in Mabel’s 
desk (judging from the post-marks on their envelopes 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 161 


which of the two she had first received, for they bore 
no date), I devoted myself to a study of it. This is 
an exact copy of the singular communication, the 
size of the paper and the arrangement of the words, 
and of the figures and alphabetical letters, being 
faithfully followed : 


H 

20 X 

2 C 14 H 

7 

E 

CO 

»-i 





b 

pq 

face 

birds the 

stares 


CO 

CD 

in 

runs back got 

I 





yonr hundred 



o 

in 

send 



rH 






rH 

trees 

the money won 

are 



< 






00 

death 

river diamond gayly 

me 


w 

H 

on 

bracelet four singing 


CO 

00 

rH 





W 


instantly cherry the 

the 








K 

00 

f-H 

a 9 

N 9T a 91 

A 


a 


11 


162 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


It appeared to me that the first thing I had to 
consider was the relation, if any, that the alphabeti- 
cal letters and figures bore to the words to which 
they formed a frame. I did not lose sight of the 
suggestion which immediately arose that this frame- 
work of figures and alphabetical letters might be 
placed there as a blind, although the evident care 
and pains which had been bestowed upon them was 
opposed to the suggestion. But then, again, the care 
thus exercised might be intended to more deeply 
mystify any strange person into whose hands the 
missive might fall. In order not to deface or mu- 
tilate the original, I made two exact copies of it 
for my own purposes, using as a kind of ruler one 
of the playing-cards which Dr. Daincourt had also 
found in Mabel Butland’s desk. 

There were two words in the missive which soon 
attracted me. These were the third word, dia- 
mond,” in the fifth line, and the second word, “ brace- 
let,” in the sixth line. “ Diamond bracelet.” I did 
not doubt that this was the diamond bracelet which 
Mr. Butland had presented to his daughter, and 
which she could not wear at the dinner-party be- 
cause it was not at that time in her possession. Here, 
then, was a clew, but here I stopped. No ingenuity 
that I could bring to bear enabled me to connect 
other words with ^‘diamond bracelet.” I cudgelled 
my brains for at least half an hour. Then all at 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 163 

once it occurred to me (what in the excitement of 
my pursuit I may very well be excused for not hav- 
ing thought of before) that the playing - card, the 
Nine of Hearts, must bear some relation to the mis- 
sive. I placed it upon the paper. Every word was 
hidden by the surface of the card ; only the figures 
and the alphabetical letters were visible. “ Doubt- 
less,” thought I, “ if I cut out the pips of a Nine of 
Hearts, and place it upon the paper, I shall see cer- 
tain words which will form the subject-matter upon 
which Eustace Rutland wrote to his sister.” In that 
case the mystery was confined to nine woixis which, 
whatever their arrangement, would not be too diffi- 
cult to intelligibly arrange. I would not mutilate 
Miss Rutland’s playing - cards. I had packs of my 
own in the house, and from these I selected the 
Nine of Hearts and cut out the pips. It was not an 
easy matter, and in my eagerness I pretty effectual- 
ly destroyed the surface of my table ; but that did 
not trouble me. My interest was now thoroughly 
aroused, and grew keener when, placing the Nine 
of Hearts upon Eustace Rutland’s mystery-letter, I 
found these words disclosed : 

Face — stares — in — send — money — death — me — in- 
stantly — the. 

Here, then, in these nine words, was the commu- 
nication which Eustace Rutland intended his sister 
to understand. I copied them on a separate sheet 


164 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


of paper, and arranged them in different ways until 
I arrived at their correct solution : 

Death stares me in the face send money in- 
stantly.” 

Congratulating myself upon my cleverness, I came 
to the conclusion that Eustace Rutland, being ban- 
ished from his father’s house, and not being able to 
obtain from his father the funds necessary for his 
disreputable career, was taking advantage of his sis- 
ter’s devoted affection for him, and was in the habit 
of calling upon her to supply him with money — 
which, no doubt, the young lady did to the best of 
her ability. Cariosity led me to the task of endeav- 
oring to discover whether the alphabetical letters 
and the figures in the framework bore any relation 
to this communication. With only the nine words 
exposed through the pips of the Nine of Hearts 
which I had cut away, I saw that the first word, 
“death,” was the sixth, and the second word, “ stares,” 
was the second, and the third word, “ me,” was the 
seventh. The sequence of the figures, therefore, was 
6, 2, 7. Now, how were these three figures arranged 
in the framework ? The figure 6 came after the let- 
ter M, the figure 2 came after the letter X, the figure 
7 came after the letter H. Satisfied that I had 
found the key, I began to study how these figures 
from 1 to 9, representing the nine words in the com- 
munication and the Nine of Hearts in the playing- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 165 


cardj were arranged in the framework in such a 
manner as to lead an informed person at once to the 
solution. There must be a starting-point with which 
both Eustace and his sister Mabel were acquainted. 
What was this starting-point ? One of the letters of 
the alphabet. What letter ? A. Starting, then, from 
A in the framework, I found that the figures from 1 
to 9 ran thus : 6 , 2 , 7 , 3 , 9 , 1 , 4 , 5 , 8 . Upon following, 
in this order, the course of *the words which were 
exposed by the playing-card with the nine pips cut 
out, I came to the conclusion that I had correctly 
interpreted this first mystery - letter. I was very 
pleased, believing that the key I had discovered 
would lead me to a correct reading of Eustace’s sec- 
ond and third letter to his sister. 

So absorbed had I been in the unravelling of this 
mystery-letter, which occupied me a good hour and 
a half, that I had lost sight during the whole of that 
time of the two words which had at first enchained 
my attention — ‘‘diamond bracelet.” “Death stares 
me in the face send money instantly ” had appeared 
to me so reasonable a construction to be placed upon 
the communication of a man who must often have 
been in a desperate strait for want of funds, that the 
thought did not obtrude itself that these words might 
be merely a blind, and that, in the words that re- 
mained after the obliteration of this sentence, the 
correct solution was to be found. The longer I con- 


166 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


sidered, the stronger became my doubts : with “ dia- 
mond bracelet ” staring me in the face, I felt that I 
had been following a Will-o’-the-wisp. 

I had asked Dr. Daincourt the date of the dinner- 
party at which Mr. Rutland had detected the absence 
of the diamond bracelet on his daughter’s arm. That 
date was the 8th of September. I examined the 
post-mark on the envelope of Eustace Rutland’s first 
communication ; it was the 26th of September. Mr. 
Rutland had laid upon his daughter the injunction 
that the diamond bracelet was to be shown to him 
before the end of the month. What month? Sep- 
tember. She had produced it in time, and her broth- 
er’s missive must have conveyed to her some infor- 
mation respecting the missing article of jewellery. 
The elation of spirits in which I had indulged took 
fiight ; I had not discovered the clew. 

I set myself again to work. I felt now as a man 
feels who is hunting out a great mystery or a great 
criminal, and upon the success of whose endeavor 
his own safety depends. It seemed to me as if it 
were not so much Edward Layton’s case as my own 
in which I was engaged. Never in the course of 
my career have I been so interested. I determined 
to set aside the words, Death stares me in the face, 
send money instantly,” and to search, in the words 
that remained, for the true meaning of Eustace Rut- 
land’s first communication. I copied them in the 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 167 


order in which they were arranged, and they ran as 
follows : 


EH 

20 X 2 C 14 H 7 

E 

CO 

I- 



b 





n 

birds the 


CO 

CD 

in mns back got I 




your hundred 


H* 

O 

tH 

trees the won are 


ch 

< 




00 

river diamond gayly 


w 

H 

on bracelet four singing 


CD 

00 



w 

tH 

cherry the 






to 

CO 

tH 

a Q N 91 <1 91 A 


b 


I counted the number of words ; there were twenty- 
two. Now, was the true reading of the communication 
contained in the whole of these twenty-two words, or 


168 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


in only a portion of them, and if in only a portion, 
in what portion ? In how many words ? There lay 
the difficulty. The words “ diamond bracelet” gave 
me a distinct satisfaction, but there were other words 
which I could not by any exercise of ingenuity con- 
nect them with, such as ‘‘birds” — “trees” — “river” — 
“ gayly ” — “ cherry ” — “ singing.” Undoubtedly the 
communication was a serious one, and these words 
seemed to be inimical to all ideas of seriousness. 
How to select? What to select? How to arrange 
the mystery ? What was the notation ? Ah, the no- 
tation! I had discovered the notation of tlie sentence 
I had set aside for the time. What if the same no- 
tation would lead me to the clew I was in search of? 
The ari*angement of the figures from 1 to 9 was ar- 
bitrated by the first letter in the alphabet, A. I 
would try whether that arrangement would afford any 
satisfaction in the twenty-two words that remained. 
It would be an affectation of vanity on my part if I 
say that this idea occurred to me instantly. It did 
not do so. It was only after long and concentrated 
attention and consideration that it came to me, and 
then I set it immediately into practical operation. 
The first figure in the sentence I had discovered was 
6. I counted six in the present arrangement of the 
words. It ended with the word “ Got.” Crossing 
out the word “ Got,” and placing it upon a separate 
sheet of paper, I proceeded. The second figure in 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 169 


the sentence I had discarded was 2. I counted two 
on from the word “ Got,” and arrived at “ Your.” I 
crossed out this word “Your” and proceeded. The 
third figure in the sentence I had discarded was 7. I 
counted seven words on from “ Your,” and came to 
“ Diamond.” I treated this word in a similar way to 
the last two, and continued the process. “ Got your 
diamond.” Now for “Bracelet.” The next figure 
was 3. I counted on three words from “ Diamond ” 
and came to “ Bracelet.” 

I was more excited than I can describe. There is 
scarcely anything in the world that fills a man with 
such exultation as success, and I was on the track of 
success : “ Got your diamond bracelet.” The follow- 
ing figure was 9. I counted on nine and came to 
the word “Back.” “Got your diamond bracelet 
back.” I continued. The next figure was 1. This 
was represented by the word “ I.” The next figure 
was 4, represented by the word “Won.” The next 
figure was 5, represented by the w^ord “ Four.” The 
next figure was 8, represented by the word “ Hun- 
dred.” I continued the same process and came 
back to the figure 6, represented by the word “ On.” 
The next figure was 2, represented by the word 
“ Cherry.” 

I stopped here, for a reason, and I read the words 
I had crossed out and written on a separate sheet of 
paper. They ran thus : 


170 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Got your diamond bracelet back I won four hum 
dred on Cherry.” 

It was not without a distinct reason that I paused 
here. Mixing with the world, and moving in all 
shades and classes of society, I must confess — as I 
have no doubt other men would confess if they were 
thoroughly ingenuous — to certain weaknesses, one of 
which is to put a sovereign or two (seldom more) 
upon every classic horse-race, and upon every impor- 
tant handicap during the year. I nearly always lose 
— and serve me right. But it happened, strangely 
enough, that in this very month of September, during 
which Eustace Eutland sent his mysterious commu- 
nications to his sister Mabel, one of the most celebrat- 
ed handicaps of the year was won by a horse named 
Cherry, and that I had two sovereigns on that very 
horse. It started at long odds. I remembered that 
the bet I made was two sovereigns to a hundred, and 
that I had won what is often called a century upon 
the race. I was convinced that I had come to the 
legitimate end of Eustace Rutland’s letter : “ Got 
your diamond bracelet back. I won four hundred on 
Cherry.” 

This young reprobate, then, was indulging in horse- 
racing. His sister Mabel had written to him an ac- 
count of the scene between herself and her father at 
the dinner-party. She had given him her diamond 
bracelet to extricate him from some scrape, and he 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 171 


had been luckily enabled, by his investment on the 
horse Cherry, to redeem it — most likely from the 
pawnbroker — in time for his sister to exhibit it to her 
father. So as to be certain that I had got the proper 
clew, and had arrived at the gist of Eustace’s com- 
munication, I wrote down the words that remained, 
which were, 

Birds — the — the — in — are — the — trees — runs — 
rivers — gayly — singing.” 

It was an easy task now for me to apply the same 
test to these remaining words, and I found that they 
formulated themselves in this fashion : 

“ The river runs gayly. The birds are singing in 
the trees.” 

I was curious to ascertain whether there vrere any 
special sign in the framework of Eustace Kutland’s 
communication by which the person engaged with 
him in the mystery-letter could be guided. I count- 
ed the words in each sentence. The words in the 
first sentence were nine — the Nine of Hearts. The 
number of words in the second sentence was eleven. 
The number of words in the third sentence was elev- 
en. After the alphabetical letter A in the frame- 
work I saw the figure 11, and I was satisfied, the 
last eleven words being meaningless, that it was the 
second sentence of eleven words, referring to the dia- 
mond bracelet and to his winning on Cherry, that Eus- 
tace wished his sister Mabel to understand. At the 


172 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


same time I was satisfied in my own mind that, with- 
out the Nine of Hearts to guide him, a man might 
spend days over the cryptograph without arriving at 
the correct solution. 

I had taken no count of the passing time. En- 
grossed and absorbed in my occupation, I was sur- 
prised, when it had reached what I believed to be a 
successful termination, to find that it was nearly six 
o’clock in the morning. 

IV. 

Dr. Daincourt called while I was dressing, after a 
few hours’ sleep. I am not usually a dreamer, but I 
had a dream so strange that I awoke with the memo- 
ry of it in my mind. It was of hands — ladies’ hands — 
every finger of which was covered with rings. Hold- 
ing the theory, as I have already explained, that the 
imagination during sleep is not creative, but invaria- 
bly works upon a foundation of fact, I was endeav- 
oring to trace the connection between my singular 
dream and some occurrence or circumstance within 
my knowledge, when Dr. Daincourt entered. 

‘^Well,” were his first words, “have you made 
anything of the letters which I left with you last 
night ?” 

“ I was employed only upon one,” I said, “ which 
kept me up until six o’clock this morning. I don’t 
begrudge the time or the labor, because I have dis- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 173 


covered the clew to Master Eustace E-utland’s com- 
munications to his sister.” 

“ That means,” said Dr. Daincourt, excitedly, that 
you have discovered the mystery of the Nine of 
Hearts.” 

‘‘ In so far,” I replied, “ as respects the playing- 
cards found in Miss Rutland’s desk — yes, I have dis- 
covered that part of the mystery ; but I have not yet 
discovered the mystery of the particular Nine of 
Hearts which was found in the pocket of Edward 
Layton’s ulster.” 

I showed Dr. Daincourt the result of my labors on 
the previous night, and he was delighted and very much 
interested, but presently his face became clouded. 

“ I am still disturbed,” he said, by the dread that 
the task you are engaged upon may bring Miss Rut- 
land into serious trouble.” 

“ I hope not,” was my rejoinder to the remark, 
but I shall not allow considerations of any kind to 
stop me. Edward Layton is an innocent man, and 
I intend to prove him so.” 

“ If he is innocent,” said Dr. Daincourt, then 
Miss Rutland must also be innocent.” 

Undoubtedly,” I said, with a cheerful smile, 
which did much to reassure the worthy doctor. 

Have you opened the two sealed letters,” asked 
Dr. Daincourt, which I brought from Mrs. Rut- 
land’s house ?” 


174 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


Noj” I replied. I have devoted myself only to 
the first of the opened letters found in Miss Rut- 
land’s desk. I shall proceed immediately with the 
second, and then I shall feel myself warranted in 
opening and reading the letters which arrived for 
Miss Rutland during her illness. By-the-way, doctor, 
I have had a singular dream, and upon your entrance 
I was endeavoring to track it. It was a dream of 
ladies’ hands, covered with rings.” 

Any bodies attached to the hands ?” inquired Dr. 
Daincourt, jocosely. 

^^No; simply hands. They seemed to pass be- 
fore my vision, and to rise up in unexpected places — 
pretty, shapely hands. But it was not so much the 
hands that struck me as being singular as the fact that 
they were covered with rings of one particular kind.” 

What kind ?” 

must have seen thousands of rings upon the 
shapely fingers, and there was not one that was not 
set with diamonds and turquoises.” 

A light came into Dr. Daincourt’s face. 

^^And you mean to tell me that you can’t dis- 
cover the connection ?” 

“No ; I can’t for the life of me discover it.” 

“ That proves,” said Dr. Daincourt, “ how easy it is 
for a man engaged upon a serious task to overlook im- 
portant facts which are as plain as the noonday sun.” 

“ What facts have I overlooked, doctor ?” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 175 


Have you the newspapers in the room containing 
the reports of the trial 

“Yes.” 

“Give me the one containing the report of the 
third day’s proceedings?” 

I handed it to him, and he ran his eyes down the 
column in which the evidence of the waiter in Pre- 
vest’s Restaurant was reported. 

“The waiter was asked,” said Dr. Daincourt, 
“ whether the lady who accompanied Edward Layton 
were married, and whether there were rings upon the 
fingers of her ungloved hand ?” 

“ Yes, yes,” I cried, “ I remember ! And the 
waiter answered that she wore a ring of turquoises 
and diamonds. Of course — of course. That explains 
my dream.” 

“ Yes,” said Dr. Daincourt, “ that explains it.” 

“I need no further assurance,” I said, “to prove 
that it was Miss Rutland who was in Edward Lay- 
ton’s company on the night of the 25th of March, 
but I wish you to ask her mother whether the young 
lady possesses such a ring, and is in the habit of 
wearing it. Your face is clouded again, doctor. 
You fear that I am really about to bring trouble 
upon Miss Rutland. You are mistaken ; I am work- 
ing in the cause of justice. If I prove Edward Lay- 
ton to be innocent, no shadow of suspicion can rest 
upon Miss Rutland. You must trust entirely to me. 
Can you not now understand why Edward Layton 


176 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


refused to be defended by a shrewd legal mind ? He 
would not perijiit a cross-examination of any of the 
witnesses which would bring the name of Mabel 
Eutland before the public. To save her honor, to 
protect her from scandal and calumny, he is ready 
to sacrifice himself. He shall not do so. I will pre- 
vent it. Your patient is in a state of delirium, you 
tell me. She knows nothing of what passes around 
her, she recognizes no one, she has not heard of the 
peril in which Edward Layton stands. Say that she 
remains in this state of ignorance until Edward Lay- 
ton is sentenced and hanged for a crime which he 
did not commit — say, then, that she recovers and 
hears of it — reads of it — why, she will go mad! It 
would be impossible for her to preserve her reason in 
circumstances so terrible. There is a clear duty be- 
fore us, Dr. Daincourt, and we must not shrink from it. 
I need not urge upon you to use your utmost skill 
to restore Mabel Rutland to health, and to the con- 
sciousness of what is passing around her. If before 
Edward Layton is put again upon his trial I do not 
clear him, I shall not hesitate to make some kind of 
appeal to Miss Rutland which, even should she re- 
main delirious, shall result in favor of the man who 
is so nobly and rashly protecting her good name.” 

“ Remember,” said Dr. Daincourt, gravely, that 
she is in great danger.” 

You mean that she may die soon ?” 

Yes.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 177 


“But not suddenly?” I asked, in alarm. 

“ I think not suddenly.” 

“ Still,” I said, “ there is a chance of her being re- 
stored to health ?” 

“ Yes, there is a chance of it.” 

“ If the worst happens,” I said, “ is it likely that 
she would recover consciousness before her death ?” 

“ It is almost certain that she would.” 

“ Then it would be necessary,” I said, “ to take her 
dying deposition. Doctor, it is my firm conviction 
that the man and the woman who entered Edward 
Layton’s house after midnight on the 25th of March 
were not Edward Layton and Mabel Rutland.” 

“ But the coachman drove them home !” exclaimed 
Dr. Daincourt. 

“ So he said.” 

“And took them from Prevost’s Restaurant.” 

“ So he said. Recall that part of the coachman’s 
evidence bearing upon it. He says that Edward Lay- 
ton, accompanied by a lady, issued from the restau- 
rant at five minutes to twelve ; that Layton appeared 
excited; which he, the coachman, attributed to the 
fact of his having taken too much wine. To rebut 
this we have the evidence of tlie waiter, who declared 
that Layton simply tasted the wine that was ordered. 
He could not have drunk half a glass. The man and 
the woman who came from the restaurant jumped 
quickly into the carriage, and but one word, ^ Home !’ 

12 


178 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


was uttered in a thick voice. Now, Layton, in his 
ridiculously weak cross-examination, put two ques- 
tions to' the witness. ‘ Did it occur to you,’ he asked, 
^ or does it occur to you now, that the voice which 
uttered that word was not my voice?’ The witness 
replied that it had not occurred to him. Then Lay- 
ton said, ^ You are certain it was my voice ?’ And the 
witness replied, ^ Yes, sir.’ To me, these two questions 
put by Layton are convincing proof that it was not he 
who entered the carriage from Prevost’s Restaurant.” 

But he wore his ulster,” said Dr. Daincourt. 

“ Here, again,” I said, “ we have evidence which, 
to my mind, is favorable. The waiter testifies that 
when Layton entered the room in which the supper 
was ordered he took off his ulster and hung it on a 
peg in the wall, at some distance from the table at 
which he sat. Moreover, he sat with his back to the 
coat. Layton, in his cross-examination, asked the 
waiter, ‘ Did I put the overcoat on before I left the 
room ?’ The waiter replied, ‘ Yes.’ The judge inter- 
vened with the rebuke, ‘ You have said in examina- 
tion that you did not see the prisoner and his com- 
panion leave the room.’ And the witness replied, 
‘ But when 1 returned, after being away for three or 
four minutes, monsieur was gone, and the coat was 
also gone.’ The prisoner put his last question to the 
waiter, ‘You did not see me put on the overcoat?’ 
And the witness answered, ‘No.’ Doctor, I see light. 
Bring me news of the ring set with turquoises and 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 179 


diamonds. I shall be at home the whole of the 
evening.” 

After Dr. Daincourt’s departure I made a hurried 
breakfast, went through my correspondence, and re- 
sumed my task of examining Eustace Rutland’s letters 
to his sister. The second opened communication was 
exactly of the same shape and form as the first which 
I had deciphered. I give here an exact copy of it: 

M 10 N 17 D 6 L. 13 C 1 


CO 


< 

of 

to distraction 

start 

CD 

a 

rH 

awfally 

yours an 

till I 


M 





at 

love hard 

night 


i> 




Ph 

up angel cheater power my 

»-» 


comer 

her ida all 

o’clock 

Q 





to 

CQ 

is 

death in 

will 


O 











nine 

I do 

Tuesday 






» 

8 

f 91 

A f' a 

81 dC 

6 


180 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


The notation of the nine figures, representing the 
nine pips in the playing-card, in Eustace’s first com- 
munication, was 6, 2, 7, 3, 9, 1, 4, 5, 8. Taking as 
my guide the alphabetical letter A, I found that the 
notation in Eustace Rutland’s second communication 
was 3, 6, 1, 5, 2, 9, 4, 8, 7. I placed the playing- 
card, with its pips cut out, over the paper, and the 
following was revealed : 

« Of — street — at — night — Chester — corner — o’clock 
— nine — Tuesday.” 

Arranging these words according to the new nota- 
tion of figures, they formed this sentence : 

‘^At corner of Chester Street Tuesday night nine 
o’clock.” 

Now,” thought I, this may have been an ap- 
pointment.” 

If so — and nothing was more likely — I could de- 
rive no assistance from it. It conveyed no informa- 
tion, and contained nothing which would assist me 
in my inquiries. It was very likely that I should 
light upon something further, and I proceeded with 
my task. The figure immediately following the al- 
phabetical letter A was 12, which meant, if I were 
on the right track, that the second sentence in this 
communication was composed of twelve words. I 
followed the same process I had previously em- 
ployed, and the twelve words formed themselves 
thus : 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 181 

“Awfully hard up ida is an angel I love her to 
distraction.” 

So as to finish this communication, I unravelled 
the last ten words, and found them to be, 

“ I will do all in my power yours till death.” 

This I set aside as being intended to convey no 
meaning. The first sentence, making an appoint- 
ment at the corner of Chester Street, was, whether 
correct or not, of little importance. I concentrated 
my attention upon the second sentence of twelve 
words: “Awfully hard up ida is an angel I love her 
to distraction.” 

So the young scamp was hard up again, and knew 
that his sister would respond to his appeal. And he 
was in love, too, and ida was an angel. Ida, of course, 
with a capital I. 

I jumped to my feet as if I had been shot. Ida! 
What was the name of Mrs. Layton’s maid who had 
given such damning evidence against the man I 
meant to set free ? Ida White ! 

Not a common name. An unusual one. I walked 
about the room in a state of great excitement. Ida 
White, the angel, and Eustace Rutland, the scamp. 
But the woman must be at least eight or ten years 
older than Eustace. What mattered that ? All the 
more likely her hold upon him. Young fools fre- 
quently fall in love with women much older than 
themselves, and when the women get the chance 


182 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


they don’t let the youngsters escape easily. Yes, op- 
posite to each other stood two men — one a worthless 
ne’er-do-well, the other a martyr ! Opposite to each 
other stood two women — one a scheming woman of' 
the world, the other a sufferings heart-broken girl ! I 
would save the noble ones. Yes, I would save them ! 
The chain was forming link by link. 

****** 

I broke off here to despatch telegrams to two of 
my confidential agents. My instructions to them 
were to employ themselves immediately in discover- 
ing where Ida White, the maid who had given evi- 
dence against her master at the trial, was living, and 
having found it, not to lose sight of her for a single 
moment, but to set a strict watch upon her, and to 
take note of her proceedings and movements, how- 
ever trivial they might be. These telegrams being 
despatched, I returned to my task. 

The two sealed letters which Dr. Daincourt had 
received from Mrs. Eutland lay before me. I took 
up the first, which I knew to be in Eustace’s hand- 
writing. I opened it. It was of a similar nature to 
the two I had already examined and interpreted. 
There is no need here to repeat the details of the 
process by means of which I read this third commu- 
nication, a copy of which I also append : 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 183 


o 

11 s 

2 J 

11 A 

7 N 

13 

00 





Q 

w 

know 

am 

1 me 

address 


CD 

rH 

I 

I 

be 

an 

b 


me 

awful 

me 

the 

CD 






iri 


innocent laid 

to that 

guilty 

c?t 

o 

find 

do 

against 

you 


M 

not 

charge 

am not 

desert 

CD 






U 

rH 

old 

swear 

may 

where 


> 





h-* 

o 

e 

K LI 

d 9 

JA St 

K 9 



I will simply say that the notation was 7, 1, 9, 5, 6, 
3, 4, 8, 2, and that the words resolved themselves into 
the following: 

“You know where to find me. The old ad- 
dress.’ 


184 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


^‘An awful charge may be laid against me. I am 
not guilty.” 

not desert me. I swear that I am innocent.” 

I decided that the w^hole of this was intended to 
be conveyed to Mabel Rutland’s understanding, and 
that in the last of Eustace’s communications to his 
sister there was not one idle word. 

An awful charge may be laid against me.” That 
charge, undoubtedly, was tlie murder of Mrs. Layton. 
“ I am not guilty. I swear that I am innocent.” But 
all guilty men are ready to swear that th^ are inno- 
cent. Not a moment was to be lost in setting my 
agents to work to discover Eustace Rutland’s address, 
as well as the address of Ida White. I quickly open- 
ed the letter which Edward Layton had written in 
prison to Mabel Rutland, and which I had posted. 
It was very short, to the following effect : 

^‘Dear Miss Rutland, — All is well. Have no 
fear. Do not write to me until you hear from me 
again. Believe me, faithfully yours, 

^‘Edward Layton.” 

Thus it was that he endeavored to keep from the 
woman he loved the true knowledge of the peril in 
which he stood. To save her good name, he was 
ready to go cheerfully to his death. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 185 


V. 

I rose early this morning in the expectation of a 
busy day. Dr. Daincourt called on Saturday even- 
ing, as I had expected, and narrated to me the result 
of his inquiries respecting Mabel Rutland’s jewellery. 
Among it there was a ring set with turquoises and 
diamonds whicli had been given to her by her mother, 
and which slie wore constantly. Dr. Daincourt had 
received from Mrs. Rutland further instances of the 
profound attachment which Mabel bore for her twin- 
brother. 

“Deep as was her love,” Mrs. Rutland had said, 
“ for Mr. Layton, there is in her love for her brother 
an element so absorbing that she would not hesitate 
to make the most terrible sacrifices for his sake. My 
poor Eustace! It is weeks since I saw him, and I 
have no idea where he is. He is not altogether to 
blame, doctor ; he has been led away by bad com- 
panions. Ah, when I think of him and Mabel as lit- 
tle children, and see them, as I often do, playing their 
innocent games together — when I think of the ex- 
quisite joy we drew from them, and of the heavenly 
happiness they were to us, it seems to me that I must 
be under the influence of some horrible dream, that 
things have changed so 1” 

At half-past nine o’clock one of my confidential 
agents, Fowler by name, made his appearance. 


186 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


“ Found, sir,” was the first thing he said to me. 

Who ?” I quickly asked. 

Ida White. Living at Brixton. The drawing- 
rooms. Quite a swell in her way, sir.” 

Is she living alone ?” 

“ So far as we can make out. There are two men 
now on the watch, one to relieve the other.” 

‘^And Mr. Eustace Rutland?” I asked. 

“ Haven’t got track of him yet, sir. The week is 
rather against us.” 

What do you mean by that ?” 

“ Why, sir, you don’t forget that it is Derby week, 
do you ? I suppose you backed one, but I can give 
you the straight tip if you want it.” 

‘‘ I backed Paradox for a couple of sovereigns,” I 
said. (Where is the man who does not take an inter- 
est in the Derby ?) 

‘‘ Not in it, sir. There is only one horse will win, 
and that is Melton.” 

“ But,” I said, coming back to the all-engrossing 
subject I was engaged upon, what difference will 
the Derby week make to you ?” 

Well, you see, sir, London is so full. There is 
too much rushing about for calm, steady work. In 
such a task as ours a man wants a double set of eyes 
this week. Suppose my lady takes it into her head 
to go to the Derby ? It will be all a job not to lose 
sight of her.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 187 


“ What lady do yon refer to 
Ida White, to be sure. She’s a bit of a blood, sir, 
and the result of the Derby may mean a lot to her.” 

“ Does she bet, then ?” 

“ There is not much doubt of that, sir.” 

“ How did you discover it ?” 

“ Oh, easily enough. We have ways of our own. 
Why, sir, when I found out last night where she lives, 
what did I do an hour afterwards but present myself 
to the landlady of the house and ask her whether she 
could let me have a room for a week or two ? I didn’t 
tell you that there was a bill in her window, ‘A Bed- 
room to Let to a Single Young Man.’ Well, if I ain’t 
a single young man, what is that to do with anybody 
— except my wife ? I’m a soft-spoken chap when I 
like, and before the landlady and me are together five 
minutes I’m hand-and-glove with her, and already a 
bit of a favorite. So I take her room and sleep there 
last night, and the first thing this morning down-stairs 
I am at the street door when the postman comes with 
the letters. Well, sir, would you believe it, he deliv- 
ers five letters, and every one of them for Miss Ida 
White? I, opening the door for the postman, take the 
letters from him, and hand them one by one to the 
landlady, who comes puffing and panting up from 
the basement — she weighs fourteen stone if she 
weighs an ounce. ‘ Miss Ida White,’ says I, giving 
her the first letter. ‘ Miss Ida White,’ says I, giving 


18S 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


her the second letter. ^Miss Ida White/ says I, giv- 
ing her the other three, one by one. ‘ Why, it is quite 
a correspondence !’ All these letters are from Bou- 
logne, sir, from betting firms. I know them by their 
outsides; I believe I should know them by the smell. 
Then, sir, there’s something else. My lady is fond of 
newspapers. What kind of newspapers? Why, the 
sporting ones, to be sure. The Sportsman^ Sporting 
Life^ Sporting Times^ Referee^ and the like. Put 
this and that together, and what do you make of it, 
sir?” 

“You are progressing, Fowler,” I said. 

“ Yes, sir, we’re moving. The landlady, bless her 
heart, she doesn’t suspect what the letters from Bou- 
logne are, but in less than a brace of shakes I worm 
out of her that Miss Ida White has received any num- 
ber of them since she came to live in the house.” 

“Have you an idea what horse she has backed ?” 

“ I have an idea tliat she has backed half a dozen, 
and that neither of the favorites is among them. 
When a woman bets, she wants fifty to one as £i rule, 
and as a rule she gets it, and has to part.” 

I debated a moment or two, and then I showed 
Fowler one of the envelopes addressed by Eustace 
Rutland to his sister. 

“Are you certain that none of the envelopes you 
saw this morning were addressed in this handwrit- 

ingr 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 189 


‘ Quite certain, sir.” 

I should like to see the house that Miss Ida 
White lives in, Fowler.” 

“Nothing easier; but I shouldn’t go as I am, if I 
were you.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Well, you see, she had a pretty long examination 
in court at the Layton trial, and you were there all 
the time. She has sharp eyes in her head, has Miss 
Ida White, and she might recognize you, and smell a 
rat.” 

“ You are right. I had better not go.” 

“ I don’t see why you shouldn’t, if you let me fix 
you up.” 

“Fix me up?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

He took from his pocket a small box of paints, 
and two or three sets of wigs and whiskers and mus- 
taches. 

“ I always travel with them, sir. I can make my- 
self into another man in five minutes or so, and as 
for a change of clothes, any handy cheap-clothes shop 
will serve my turn. Put on these sandy whiskers 
and mustaches— always hide your mouth, sir — and 
this sandy wig, and let me touch you up a bit, and 
your own mother wouldn’t know you.” 

I doubted whether she would when I looked at 
myself in the glass after carrying out Fowler’s in- 


190 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


str actions^ and in less than a quarter of an hour we 
were riding in a four-wheeled cab to Brixton. We 
alighted within a couple of hundred yards of Miss 
Ida White’s lodgings, and Fowler took me boldly 
into the house, requesting me on the way thither to 
try and discover the men working under him who 
were keeping watch upon the lady’s - maid’s move- 
ments. To his gratification, I failed to discover them. 

Then you didn’t see me give the oflice to them?” 
he asked. 

“ No,” I replied. 

I did, though, under your very nose. That is a 
guarantee to you, sir, that the thing is being neatly 
done. Miss White is in the house. If she were not, 
my men wouldn’t be in the street. Did you hear the 
snapping of a lock down-stairs?” 

‘^No.’’ 

We were sitting at the window of Fowler’s room, 
which was situated on the second fioor. It was the 
front room, and we could therefore see into the street. 

It was the key turning in my lady’s room. She 
is going out. There’s the street door slamming. You 
heard that, of course ?” 

Yes, I heard that.” 

“ And there is Miss Ida White crossing the road 
to the opposite side of the way, and there, sir, are my 
men following her, without her having the slightest 
suspicion that she is being tracked.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 191 

My sight is strong, and I had a clear view of Ida 
White. She was stylishly dressed, and was certainly 
good-looking. 

It is my opinion,” said Fowler, that she feather- 
ed her nest when she was in Mrs. Layton’s service ; 
but I don’t care how much money she may have 
saved or filched, if she goes on betting on horses the 
book-makers will have every penny of it.” 

There was nothing more to be done, and feeling 
somewhat ill at ease in my disguise, I prepared to 
leave. 

‘‘I will see you out of the street, sir,” said Fowler. 
“ It happens often enough that watchers are watched, 
without their being aware of it.” 

Before I bade Fowler good-day I impressed upon 
him that no money was to be spared in the business 
i had intrusted to him, and that he had better engage 
two or three more men, to be ready for any emergen- 
cy that might occur. He promised to do so, and I 
made my way home. 

VI. 

THE DAY AFTER THE DERBY. 

Before commencing an account of what has been 
done, and what discovered, I cannot refrain from 
writing one sentence. Success has crowned our ef- 
forts. 

There is no need here to minutely describe our 


192 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


proceedings on Monday and Tuesday. Sufficient to 
say that I was in constant communication with Fow- 
ler — whoris a most trustworthy fellow, and shrewd 
to the tips of his nails — and that I had occasion on 
Tuesday to again assume my disguise. On Tuesday 
night I saw Dr. Daincourt, and was glad to learn 
from him that there was an improvement in Miss 
Rutland’s condition. 

Due,” he observed, “ in a great measure to certain 
assurances I imparted to her in a voice so distinct 
and cheerful as to impress itself upon her fevered 
imagination.” 

“ That is good news,” I said. You are adminis- 
tering what she requires — medicine for the mind.” 

I come now at once to the account of one of the 
most exciting days — the Derby Day of 1885 — I have 
ever passed through. Fowler was in my house at 
seven o’clock in the morning, and brought with him 
a suit of clothes which he wished me to wear. He 
had forewarned me that he intended to make a change 
in his own appearance, and I was therefore not sur- 
prised when he presented himself in the guise of a 
well-to-do farmer who had come to London to see 
the Derby. 

“ Miss White is going, sir,” he said, and we are 
going, too. I have been living in the house with her 
these last two days, and it is important that she should 
not recognize me. I have a piece of satisfactory in- 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 193 

formation for you. It is an even bet that before this 
day is out I bring you face to face with Mr. Eustace 
Kutland.’’ 

“ If you do,” said I, “ you will lose nothing by it. 
Bring me into the same room as that young man, 
and I will wring from him what I desire to know.” 

Don’t get excited, sir,” said Fowler. “Keep 
cool. You have had a good night’s rest, I hope ?” 

“ Yes, I slept well.” 

“That's right. Make a hearty breakfast, as I am 
going to do. We shall need all our strength. It is 
going to be a heavy day for us.” 

“ Where does Ida White start from ?” I asked. 

“ I can’t tell you, sir. I pumped the landlady of 
the house, but she knew nothing except that a new 
bonnet liad arrived for our lady-bird. Miss White is 
as close as wax, but that new bonnet means the Der- 
by, if it means anything. She can’t very well start 
before nine o’clock, and we shall be on the watch for 
her not later than half-past eight. I liave six men 
engaged in the affair, sir. It will cost something.” 

“ Never mind the cost,” I said ; “ it is the last thing 
to be considered.” 

“ That is the way to work to success. Many a ship 
is spoiled for a ha’porth of tar. We shall come out 
of this triumphant, or my name is not Fowler.” 

His confident, hopeful manner inspired me with 
confidence, and after partaking of a substantial break- 
13 


194 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


fast we both set out for Brixton. Fowler had hired 
a cab by the hour, with a promise of double fare to 
the driver, to whom he gave explicit instructious. 
We did not enter the house; we lingered at the cor- 
ner of a street at some distance from it, and at twen- 
ty minutes to ten Miss Ida White closed the street 
door behind her. Secret signals passed between Fow- 
ler and his men, and we followed the lady’s-maid, the 
cab which Fowler had engaged crawling in our rear 
without attracting attention. Miss White sauntered 
on until she came to a cab-stand, and entering a cab, 
was driven away. We were after her like a shot. 
Two other cabs started at the same time, and I learn- 
ed from Fowler that they were hired by his men. 

“ Don’t think I have drawn off all my forces, sir,” 
he said. Although Miss White has left the house, 
there are two men on watch, who will remain there 
the whole of the d^y. She has started early.' It 
will make it all the easier for us.” 

Miss White’s cab stopped at Victoria Station, and 
we stopped also. 

“She’s a smart -looking woman, sir,” whispered 
Fowler to me. 

“She has a splendid complexion,” I remarked. 

“Put on, sir,” said Fowler, smiling. — “put on. 
Leave a lady’s-maid alone to learn the tricks of the 
face.” 

Ida White purchased a first-class ticket for Epsom 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 195 


Downs, and we did the same. Had I followed my 
own judgment I should have avoided the carriage 
in which Miss White travelled, but Fowler pushed 
me in before him, and got in afterwards, and being 
under his command, I did not hesitate. He had pur- 
chased a number of newspapers, and shortly after 
we started he surprised me by opening a conversa- 
tion with a stranger. He spoke with a Lancashire 
accent, and I should have been deceived by his voice 
had he not been sitting by my side. The subject, of 
course, was the Derby, and he appeared to be eager 
to obtain information as to the merits and chances 
of the various runners. 

Meanwhile, Miss White, who had also purchased 
every sporting paper she saw, had taken from her 
pocket a Kacing Guide, in which the performances 
of the horses were recorded. She studied this Guide 
with great seriousness, and was continually consult- 
ing the newspapers to ascertain how far the opinions 
of the sporting prophets agreed with the information 
of the authority with which she had provided her- 
self. So,” thought I, “ this young woman, whose 
whole soul seems wrapped up in racing matters, is 
the same young woman who in court declared that 
she hated races and betting men.” Before we were 
half an hour on our journey I felt perfectly at ease 
in her presence. It was clear that she considered 
herself safe, and among strangers. The conversation 


196 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


between Fowler and the gentleman became more an- 
imated ; others joined in, and I observed that Miss 
White’s attention was attracted to their utterances^ 
Every now and then she made a memorandum in 
a small metallic book, and before we arrived at Ep- 
som Downs she allowed herself to be drawn into 
conversation, and freely expressed her opinions upon 
the horses that were to run for the blue ribbon of 
the turf. I did not venture to address her, but Fow- 
ler had no fear, and extracted from her the names 
of the horses slie believed to have the best chances. 
He slapped his thigh, and declared that he should 
back them. 

We alighted at Epsom Downs, and rode to the 
race-course. The great rush of the day had not yet 
set in, but although the Grand Stand was scarcely a 
third part filled, there were already many there who 
had taken up a favorable position from which to see 
the principal race of the day. Fowler improved 
upon his acquaintance with Miss White, and I obeyed 
the instructions he managed to convey to me not to 
stick too close to him. I did not lose sight of him, 
however, and presently he came and said to me, in 
an undertone, 

^^It’s all right, sir; I’m making headway. I’ve 
told her where I come from in Lancashire, and that 
I am a single man with a goodish bit of property 
which has just fallen to me through the death of my 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 197 

father. I’ve given lier ray card — I had some printed 
yesterday in case they might be wanted. We are 
going up-stairs to have a bit of luncheon before the 
races commence.” 

Up-stairs we went to the luncheon-room, where 
Fowler called for a bottle of dry champagne, in 
which we drank good-luck to each other. It was 
only by great exertions that we managed, after lunch, 
to squeeze ourselves into the Grand Stand. The 
crush was terrific up the narrow stairs, and Miss Ida 
White would have fared badly had it not been for 
Fowler’s gallant attentions. 

I have no intention to describe the race. It pre- 
sented all the usual features of a Derby, to which I 
paid but little heed, my attention being concentrat- 
ed upon Miss Ida White. She was greatly excited. 
There were some book-makers on the Grand Stand 
shouting out the odds, and she must have invested 
at least a dozen sovereigns on different horses, the 
odds against which ranged from 40 to 60 to 1. 

The race was over. Melton was hailed the win- 
ner. I knew that Miss White had not backed Mel- 
ton for a shilling, and I watched the effect the result 
of the race had upon her. Her lips quivered, her 
eyes glared furiously about. Ida is an angel, is 
she?” thought I. “Ah! not much of the angel 
there.” 

A stampede commenced to the lower ground. 


198 


THE KINE OF HEAKTS. 


The Grand Stand was half empty. Then it was that 
I saw a man who had just come up give a secret 
look of intelligence to Fowler, after which he strolled 
a few paces away, and stood with his back towards 
Miss White. Fowler joined him with a negligent air, 
and very soon returned. 

“ I am very sorry you lost,” he said to Miss White, 
‘^and quite as sorry that I must wish you good- 
by.” 

He took her aside, and had a brief conversation 
with her, in the course of which he slipped some- 
thing into her palm, upon which her fingers instant- 
ly closed. Shaking hands with her, he beckoned to 
me, and we left the Grand Stand. 

What did you give her ?” I asked. 

“ Only a card,” he said, “ with an address in Lon- 
don, to which she could write to me if she felt in- 
clined. I told her that I had never seen a lady I 
admired so much, and that I hoped she would give 
me the opportunity of becoming friends with her. 
In an honorable way — oh, quite in an honorable 
way !” he added, with a laugh. 

‘^And wLat are you leaving her for now?” I in- 
quired. 

Because I know where Mr. Eustace Rutland is 
to be found,” he replied. “ It will take two or three 
hours to get to the place, and I suppose it is best to 
lose no time.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 199 

“Decidedly the best,” I said ; “ but how about Ida 
White?” 

“ She is safe enough. My men are all around her. 
She won’t be left for an instant, wherever she may 
go. The gentleman I entered into conversation with 
in the train was one of my fellows. You are a great 
lawyer, sir, but I think I could teach you some- 
thing.” 

“ I have no doubt you could. Where does Eustace 
Kutland live ?” 

“ In Croydon, at some distance from the station.” 

We did not reach Croydon until past six o’clock, 
and it was nearly another hour before we arrived at 
the address which Fowler had received. 

“ That is the house, sir,” he said, pointing to it. 
“ It doesn’t look very flourishing.” 

It was one of a terrace of eight sad-looking tene- 
ments, two stories in height, and evidently occupied 
by people in a humble station of life. 

“ Before we go in, sir,” said Fowler, “ I must put 
you in possession of the information I have gained. 
Mr. Eustace Rutland does not live there ” — I started 
— “ but Mr. Fenwick does. The young gentleman 
has thought fit to change his name ; that is suspi- 
cious. He has lived there the last two weeks, having 
come probably from some better-known locality, the 
whereabouts of which I shall learn by-and-by. When 
I say he came from some better-known locality I am 


200 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


not quite exact; it will be more correct to say that 
he was brought from some better -known locality. 
He was very ill, scarcely able to walk, and is still 
very weak, I am given to understand. Now, sir, 
w'hat do you propose to do ? Do you wish me to go 
in with you, or will you see this young gentleman 
alone, without witnesses?” 

“ You are the soul of discretion, Fowler,” 1 said, 
and of shrewdness. I must see the young gentle- 
man alone, and without witnesses. Meanwhile you 
can remain in the house, ready at my call, if I should 
require you. Keep all strangers from the room 
while I am closeted with him.” 

I knocked at the door, and inquired of the woman 
who opened it for Mr. Fenwick. She asked me what 
I wanted, and who Mr. Fenwick was. 

‘‘Mr. Fenwick lodges here,” I said. “I am a 
friend of his, and I wish to see him.” 

“ How do you know he lodges here ?” asked the 
woman. 

“ Simply,” replied Fowler, “ because we happen to 
have received a letter from him with this address on 
it. What’s your little game, eh, that you want to 
deny him to us?” 

As he spoke he pushed his way into the passage, 
and I followed. The woman looked helplessly at us, 
and when Fowler said, with forefinger uplifted warn- 
ingly, “ Take care what you are about,” she replied, 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 201 


‘‘ I don’t know wliat to do ; I am only following out 
my instructions.” 

‘‘Your instructions/’ said Fowler, “were not to 
prevent Mr. Fenwick’s friends from seeing him.” 

“I was told to admit no one,” the woman said. 

“And pray who told you?” demanded Fowler. 
“The lady?” 

“Yes, sir,” said the woman. “ Miss Porter.” 

“ Oh, Miss Porter,” exclaimed Fowler. “ A friend 
of ours also. Dark-skinned. Black hair. Black 
eyes. Red lips. White hands. Rather slim. About 
five foot four.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the woman. 

Fowler had given a pretty faithful description of 
Miss Ida White. 

“Well, then,” said Fowler, whose ready wit com- 
pelled my admiration, “there is no occasion to an- 
nounce us to Mr. Fenwick. Show this gentleman 
the room, and while they’re chatting together I will 
have a little chat with you.” 

“ It is on the first fioor,” said the woman. 

“Of course it is,” said Fowler; “the first floor 
front, the room with the blind pulled down. Do you 
think I don’t know it? How is the young gentle- 
man ?” 

“ Not at all well, sir.” 

I heard this reply as I ascended the stairs, in com- 
pliance with a motion of Fowler’s head. When I 


202 


THE NINE OP HEARTS. 


arrived at the door of the room occupied by Fenwick, 
otherwise Eustace Rutland, I did not knock, but I 
turned the handle and entered. A young gentleman 
who had been lying on the sofa jumped up upon my 
entrance, and cried, 

“ Who are you ? What do you want 

I closed the door, and turned the key in the lock. 

What do you do that for he exclaimed. 

“You will very soon know,” I replied. “I am 
here for the purpose of having a few minutes’ con- 
\^ersation with Mr.— shall I say Fenwick?” 

“ It is my name.” 

“ If I did not come as a friend I should dispute it, 
and even as a friend I shall venture to dispute it. 
Your proper name is Eustace Rutland.” 

He fell back upon the sofa, white and trembling. 

“ What do you mean ? Why are you here ?” he 
gasped. 

“ I will tell you,” I said. “ The time for evasion 
and concealment is past. Your sister — ” 

“My sister!” interrupted Eustace. “I do not un- 
derstand you.” 

“You do understand me. You have a sister — a 
twin-sister — whose name is Mabel. She lies at the 
point of death, and you have brought her to it.” 

He covered his face with his hands, and I judged 
intuitively that there sat before me a young man 
who, weak-minded and easily led for evil as he 


THE MYSTERY OE THE NINE OF HEARTS. . 203 

might be, was not devoid of the true instincts of 
affection. 

“ Did you know of her condition I asked. 

^^ISTo,” he replied, in a trembling voice. ‘^Is it 
true ? Is it true ?” 

It is unhappily true, and it may be that it lies in 
your power to rescue from the grave the innocent 
young girl who has devoted her life and happiness to 
you.” 

“ My God ! my God !” 

“ I will not deceive you. Such happiness cannot 
come to pass if you are guilty.” 

“ I am not guilty !” he cried, starting to his feet. 
“ God knows I am not guilty !” 

Swear it,” I exclaimed, sternly. 

“By all my hopes of happiness,” he exclaimed, 
falling upon his knees — “ by my dear Mabel’s life, 
by my dear mother’s life — I swear that I am inno- 
cent !” 

He was grovelling on the floor, and I assisted him 
to rise. 

“And being not guilty,” I said, solemnly, “you 
were content to remain in hiding while another man 
was accused of the crime which neither he nor you 
committed! And being not guilty, you would have 
waited until he was done to death before you emerged 
once more into the light of day ! I believe you when 
you say you did not know of your sister’s peril, but 


204 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


you knew of the peril in which Edward Layton stood. 
Don’t deny it. Kemember, the time of evasion has 
passed.” 

Yes,” he murmured^ “ I knew it.” 

“ Why did you not come forward,” I said, indig- 
nantly, rusliing as if by an inspiration of reasoning to 
the truth, ‘^to affirm that you and Ida White were in 
Prevost’s Restaurant, in the very room in which Ed- 
ward Layton and your sister entered, on the night of 
the 25th of March ? Why did you not come forward 
to affirm that it was you who — by a devilish prompt- 
ing — took Edward Layton’s ulster, unknown to him, 
from the peg upon which it was lianging, and went 
out wdth your paramour to the carriage in which he 
and your sister had arrived ? Answer me. Why did 
you not do this, to prevent a noble and innocent man 
from being condemned for a murder which he did 
not commit ?” 

^‘It was no murder!” cried Eustace. It was no 
murder ! She died by her own hand !” 

“ She died by her own hand !” I echoed, bewil- 
dered by this sudden turn in the complexion of the 
case. 

Yes,” said Eustace, by her own hand. Upon 
the table by her bedside there was written evidence 
of it.” 

Which you removed !” I cried. 

No, not I, not I ! Of which she took possession !” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 205 

Speak plainly. Whom do you mean by she — 
Ida White?” 

“Yes.” 

I paused. Truth to tell, I was overwhelmed by 
these disclosures. 

“ Bear this steadfastly in mind,” I said, presently, 
in a calm, judicial tone. “You are in the presence 
of a man who has sworn to rescue the innocent. You 
are in the presence of a man who has sworn to bring 
the guilty to justice. Upon me depends your fate. 
I can save or destroy you. If by a hair’s-breadth of 
duplicity and evasion you attempt to deceive me, 
your destruction is certain. This is the turning-point 
of your life. Upon your truthfulness rests your fate. 
Open your heart to me, not as to your enemy, but as 
to your friend, and relate to me, without equivoca- 
tion, the true story of your life, from the time you 
commenced to plunge into dissipation and disgrace.” 

Awed and conscience - stricken, he told me the 
story. In the course of his narration I was com- 
pelled frequently to prompt and encourage him, but 
that, in the result, it was truthfully told I have not a 
shadow of doubt. 

His career at college ended, he came to London. 
There he made the acquaintance of Edward Layton’s 
father, a man who, although well on in years, was as 
weak-minded as he was himself. They entered into 
a kind of partnership, in which, no doubt, the elder 


206 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


man, now in his grave, was the leader and prompter. 
From Eustace’s description of Edward Layton’s fa- 
ther I recognized a man weak-minded as Eustace him- 
self was, and whose inherent lionor and honesty were 
warped by his fatal passion for gambling. Old Mr. 
Layton, for a long time, kept his infatuation from the 
knowledge of his son, and it was not until he was 
actually involved in crime and disgrace that Edward 
became aware of it. Long before this Edward had, 
through his engagement with Mabel Rutland, been 
employed in the helpless task of endeavoring to save 
her beloved brother, but when the knowledge of his 
own father’s disgrace was forced upon him, he knew 
that all hope of Mabel’s father consenting to his mar- 
riage was irretrievably gone. It was not only that 
the young and the old man had lost money in bet- 
ting — it was that they had actually been guilty of forg- 
ing bills, which Mr. Beach, the father of the woman 
whom Edward Layton afterwards married, held in 
his possession. It was this that first took Edward 
Layton to Mr. Beach’s house. Mabel had implored 
him to save her darling brotlier, against wliom Mr. 
Beach had threatened to take criminal proceedings. 
I do not at this moment know whether Edward Lay- 
ton had revealed to Mabel the disgrace which hnng 
also above his father; but that is immaterial. Agnes 
Beach, Mr. Beach’s only child, saw and fell in love 
with Edward Layton, and her father, disreputable as 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 207 


he was, being devoted to his daughter, was guided by 
her in all that subsequently transpired. The bills he 
held he determinedly refused to part with, unless Ed- 
ward Layton married Iiis child. 

In the terrible position in which he was placed, 
knowing that Mabel Rutland was lost to him for- 
ever — knowing how deeply and devotedly she loved 
her brother Eustace — knowing the disgrace which 
hung over his own name, he saw no other way to 
prevent utter ruin than to enter into this fatal en- 
gagement, and to marry a woman whom he did not 
love. But, with a full consciousness of the disrepu- 
table connection he was about to form, he laid no 
pressing injunction upon his father to recognize the 
unhappy union ; and, indeed, old Mr. Layton, aware 
that he was in Mr. Beach’s power, was by no means 
desirous to meet him. Love lost, honor lost, the 
sword hanging over his head, Edward Layton sub- 
mitted to the sacrifice. There was no duplicity on 
his part. Agnes Beach knew full well that he did 
not love her. He received, as he believed, the whole 
of the forged bills which Mr. Beach held, and it was 
not until some time after his marriage that he dis- 
covered that three of these fatal acceptances had been 
withheld from him. At the time he made this dis- 
covery he was leading a most unhappy life with his 
wife, and on more than one occasion she taunted him 
with the power she held over him. 


208 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


It was shortly after the marriage that weak-minded 
Eustace made the acquaintance of Ida White. She 
was an attractive woman, well versed in the wiles of 
her sex, and she played upon him and entangled him 
to such an extent that there was no escape for him. 
It is unnecessary here to enter into the details of this 
connection. It is sufScient to say that Ida White 
held Eustace Rutland completely in her power, with 
a firm conviction that if she could induce him to 
marry her, she could, after the marriage, obtain the 
forgiveness of Eustace’s father — which would insure 
her a life of ease and luxury. But there was still a 
certain firmness in the young man. 

“ Marry me,” she said. 

I will marry you,” Eustace replied, when I get 
back the forged acceptances.” 

Where were they ? In Mrs. Layton’s possession. 

Close as was the intimacy which existed between 
the unhappy lady and her maid, Mrs. Layton retained 
so jealous a possession of these incriminating docu- 
ments that Ida White was not able to lay her hands 
upon them. In the company of Eustace Rutland she 
was supping in Prevost’s Restaurant on the night of 
the 25th of March. She had slipped away from Mrs. 
Layton’s house, as she had often done before, to meet 
her young and foolish lover. She saw her master 
and Mabel enter the room, and observed Layton tak- 
ing off his ulster. Then the idea suddenly entered 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 209 


her head that Eustace and she should personate her 
master and the young lady — with a full knowledge 
how deeply those two were compromised by their 
being together — and arrive home before them, by 
which time, doubtless, Mrs. Layton would be asleep. 
She knew that under her pillow Mrs. Layton kept 
the documents which Eustace frantically desired to 
obtain, and the possession of which would make her, 
Ida White, his wife. If Mrs. Layton awoke and re- 
sisted while the forged bills were being abstracted, 
Eustace would be at hand to use force, if necessary ; 
and it was principally from the wish to compromise 
her lover so deeply that he would not dare to break 
his promise to marry her that she determined to put 
her idea into execution. She knew that ordinarily 
Edward Layton kept the latch-key of the street door 
in the pocket of his ulster. She disclosed the scheme 
to Eustace, and threatened him with exposure if he 
did not do as she desired. It was she who took the 
ulster from the wall of the restaurant, and it was she 
who, secretly and expeditiously, assisted Eustace to 
put it on ; then they stole out together and entered 
the carriage. Before acquainting Eustace with her 
design she had ascertained that Edward Layton’s 
carriage was waiting for him and for Mabel. She 
trusted to her own resources to keep her master out 
of his house after she and Eustace had entered it. 

Here a word is necessary as to the true meaning 

14 


310 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


of Edward Layton’s proceedings during the day and 
night of the 25th of March. Abandoned as were the 
hopes in which he and Mabel had once fondly in- 
dulged, she still relied upon his efforts to save her 
brother from harm. Eustace had lost heavily upon 
certain races. He had made a despairing appeal to 
her, and she called upon Layton to assist the erring 
lad. It was in the endeavor to discover Eustace that 
Edward Layton had driven from place to place to 
obtain from him the information necessary to rescue 
him from his peril. Mabel had, by letter, engaged 
to meet Edward Layton in Bloomsbury Square at 
ten o’clock on the night of that day, in order that he 
might relieve her anxiety with respect to her brother. 
How they met, and what transpired after they met, 
have been already sulBciently detailed. 

Ida White’s manoeuvres were successful up to a 
certain point. She and Eustace entered the carriage, 
were driven home, and, unsuspected, obtained entrance 
into the house. The correspondence between Eustace 
and Mabel had been for some time conducted through 
the medium of the system of the Nine of Hearts, and 
it was either by an oversight or by accident that Eus- 
tace, during the drive from Prevost’s Kestaurant to 
Edward Layton’s house, took from his own pocket 
one of these cards and let it drop into the pocket of 
the ulster. But when they were safely in Layton’s 
house, and crept stealthily and noiselessly into Mrs. 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 211 


Layton’s bedroom, they made the horrible discovery 
that Mrs. Layton, in a moment of frenzy, had emp- 
tied the bottle of poisonous narcotics, and had by her 
own will destroyed herself. The proof was at her 
bedside. Wlien slie had swallowed the fatal pills, 
the horror of the deed overwhelmed her. She sum- 
moned up sufficient strength to rise in her bed, to 
take paper and the pen from the inkstand, and be- 
fore the death - agony commenced in her sleep, to 
write upon that paper the confession which fixed 
upon her the crime of suicide. 

Having reached this point of the strange story, I 
demanded to know from Eustace Kutland what had 
become of that confession. 

“ Ida took possession of it,” he said, and I have 
not seen it from that moment to this.” 

Why did you not come forward and make this 
public ?” I cried. 

“ Because,” was his reply, ‘‘ Ida told me that, if 
what we had done became known, nothing could 
gave us from the hangman.” 

‘^Did she obtain possession of the forged accept- 
ances ?” 

Yes.” 

“ How was it that the tumbler from which the fatal 
draught was taken was on the mantle-shelf ?” 

“ Ida placed it there.” 

It was enough. The entire facts of this mysterious 


312 


THE NINE OF HEABTS. 


case were clear to me. I required nothing more to 
prove Edward Layton’s innocence than the possession 
of the document written almost in her death-throes 
by his unhappy wife. 

I unlocked the door and called up Fowler. Brief- 
ly and swiftly I told him what was necessary, and 
said it was not at all improbable that this document 
was in Ida White’s lodgings at Brixton ; and I had 
scarcely uttered the words before a rat-tat-tat came 
at the street door. 

It is she !” cried Eustace. 

“ Who ?” I asked, in great excitement. 

^^Ida,” he replied. 

It serves our turn exactly, sir,” muttered Fowler 
to me, and then addressing Eustace, he said, “ Is that 
your bedroom?” pointing to a communicating door. 

Yes.” 

We will go in there. Let the lady come up.” 

We disappeared, leaving the communicating door 
partially open, and the next minute I heard Ida 
White’s voice. 

“Cursed luck!” she cried. “I’ve lost eighty-five 
pounds to-day. I tell you what it is, Eustace — if we 
can’t wheedle your old governor into forgiving us 
after we are married, we shall have to turn book- 
makers ourselves. You shall take the bets, and I will 
do the clerking. It will be a novelty, and we shall 
make pots of money.” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 213 

Eustace did not reply. 

‘‘Why don’t you speak?” she continued. “Are 
you struck dumb?” 

Then came Eustace’s voice, like the cry of a de- 
spairing soul : 

“You are a devil! Why have you driven me to 
this? I hate you, hate you, hate you! You fiend, 
you have killed my sister !” 

Fowler did not wait for me to act. He seized me 
by the arm, and pulled me after him into the room. 

“ What !” screamed Ida ; “you two !” 

“ Yes,” said Fowler — and in the midst of my own 
excitement I could not avoid observing the expres- 
sion of calm satisfaction on his face — “we two.” 

“ What are you here for ?” 

“For reasons, Ida White,” replied Fowler, “which 
may or may not be fatal to yourself. Follow what 
I am about to say. We have here a confession from 
this young gentleman which, if true — that is, if it 
can be proved by documentary evidence — will bring 
undoubted disgrace upon you, but neither^ death by 
the hangman’s hands nor penal servitude for life.” 

She recoiled, and echoed, 

“ Death ! Penal servitude for life !” 

“ It is exactly as I have said. Death by the hang- 
man’s hands or penal servitude for life. All is 
known. Your theft of the ulster at Prevost’s Res- 
taurant, and everything else. Your liberty at this 


THE NINE OF HEARTS. 


2U 

moment rests upon a written document. If it never 
existed, or if you have destroyed it, you are doomed. 
If it exists, you are saved.” 

You are a madman !” she cried, but her face was 
blanched, and her figure expressed tlie most abject 
terror. 

‘‘ I am an officer of the law,” said Fowler. ^^Now 
do you understand ? If the confession written by 
Mrs. Edward Layton, and which, after her death, you 
took from the table by her bedside, is in existence, 
you have nothing to fear. If it is not, you are a lost 
woman„ No words, no parleying ! It is life or death 
for you! The moment has come. Decide. Which 
way ?” 

Utterly overpowered, Ida White replied, with 
hands l^remblingly raised, as if for mercy, 

I have the paper.” 

‘‘Where?” 

Her hands wandered to her pocket, and she took 
a purse from it. 

“ Here !” 

“ There is something else, lady-bird.” 

“ What ?” 

“ The papers you stole from underneath your mis- 
tress’s pillow. Ah ! you have those also ! Hand 
them over. Thank you, lady-bird. Yery satisfactory 
— very satisfactory indeed. A happy termination to 
a most remarkable case !” 


THE MYSTERY OF THE NINE OF HEARTS. 215 


VII. 

‘‘ August 27, 1885. 

‘^Dear Mr. Laino, — My intermediate letters will 
have placed you in possession of all that has occurred. 
Edward Layton is released with honor, and it has 
been the subject of hundreds of leading articles that 
the obstinacy of one juryman, who refused to be 
guided by circumstantial evidence, saved a noble 
young fellow from an unjust death. A great blow 
has been struck against the jury system. Eleven men 
wrong, and one man right ! — people could hardly be- 
lieve it. But it was so in this instance, and I have 
no doubt it has been so in others. You being now 
a married man, domestically happy and contented, 
the news I have to impart will give you pleasure. 
Edward Layton is in Switzerland. He has gone upon 
a long summer and autumn tour. Alone ? No. 
Mabel Rutland, restored to health, is wdth him. Well, 
but that is not enough ? I take a satisfaction in pro- 
longing the interest. I could almost fancy myself a 
novelist. Mr. and Mrs. Rutland are also of the com- 
pany, and it is Mr. Rutland himself who invited Ed- 
ward Layton to travel with them. In less than a 
year from this date the lovers will be united, and 
faith and self-sacrifice will be rewarded. Mr. James 
Rutland, Mabel’s uncle, to whose obstinacy Edward 
Layton undoubtedly owes his life, and before whose 


216 


THE NINE OF HEARTS* 


obstinacy Justice should bow, is also travelling with 
them. No one else? Yes. Mabel’s brother, Eus- 
taccj repentant, humbled, reformed. 

I have had painted for me a very simple picture 
on a large canvas. It is the Nine of Hearts, which 
I intend shall always occupy the place of honor in 
my house. It cannot fail to attract attention, and 
when inquiries are made about it I shall have a story 
to tell. 

With a full appreciation of your rare generosity, 
I remain, dear sir. 

Yours faithfully, 

“ Horace Bainbridge.” 




J 


B. L. FARJEON’S NOVELS. 


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BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST. 


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ATLANTIS. 


ATLANTIS; THE ANTEDILUVIAN WORLD. By lo- 

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ATLA 


A Story of the Lost Island. By Mrs. J. Geegory Smith, 
Author of “Dawn to Sunrise,” etc. pp. 284. 16mo, 

Extra Cloth, $1 00. 

A new history of the fabled Atlantis, in many particulars far exceeding 
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A romance which has many elements which will charm the reader. 
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“Leola’^ or “Selma.” — Brooklyn Union, 


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UPLAND AND MEADOW. 

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people so quaint and curious as to give a great personal interest to these 
studies. Any one with the slightest interest in natural history will be 
charmed with this book ; and those who care very little for natural his- 
tory in itself will find so much other matter that whoever and of whatever 
turn of mind takes up this book will not willingly lay it down. — Christian 
Advocate^ N. Y. 

We commend this book as inspiring, refreshing, and delightful in its 
record and humor both. — Philadelphia Ledger and Transcript. 

The author has a faculty for using his eyes and ears to excellent advan- 
tage in his rambles over “ Upland and Meadow,” and a very entertaining 
way of recording what he sees and hears. ... It is worth reading indeed. 
— The Examiner., N. Y. 

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way, for they manage to give each story of bird or beast a point. — N. Y. 
Times. 

Delightful reading for students and lovers of out-door nature. . . * Here 
the author discourses with the greatest charm of style about wood and 
stream, marsh-wrens, the spade-foot toad, summer, winter, trumpet-creepers 
and ruby throats, September sunshine, a colony of grakles, the queer little 
dwellers in the water, and countless other things that the ordinary eye 
passes by without notice. . . . The book may be heartily commended to 
every reader of taste, and to every admirer of graceful and nervous Eng- 
lish. — Saturday Evening Gazette^ Boston. 


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